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evolnoomym · 24 days

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1. This is me trying

Sugar-Daddy!Joel Miller x f!OC

General Masterlist | „Runaway Butterfly 🦋“ Masterlist

Summary: You may have gotten out, but the damage is done. As you look back on the past you take a step forward in the present.

Rating: 18+ explicit content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: no y/n, f!reader, this is how my first OC Moon got born, childhood abuse, self hatred, alludes to sa & suicide attempt(s), 2 separate instances of underage OC getting taken advantage of, nothing to graphic, Weed consumption, panic attack, OC sexualizes herself, she has tits and ass

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: This is the first chapter of my my first Series, it’s been sitting in my notes basically for about 3 months. (Can we believe I’ve been here for 3 months already 😅) I know it’s rather short but the following chapters will be a lot longer. No Joel except in photos, also the Hawaiian Flannel he wears in one of those is the same as @strang3lov3 owns, hers is inspired by Jim Hopper. Bug was also the one that told me to write, so it’s all thanks to her 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Big thank you to for beta reading @fhatbhabiee & @jennaispunk 🦋🦋🦋

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 👌🏻

Technically you are missing, you didn’t tell them where you’d go, they didn’t even knew you’d go at all. Though, you are sure that they are happy to be ridden of the problem, connecting all of them.

They took your pride, confidence, dignity and hope. They clipped your wings early on so you’d never get away, no chance at getting out of this nightmare. Always destined to be the black sheep, the picture-perfect scapegoat for all of them, and whenever something went wrong you got blamed.

No wonder you started to hate yourself, believing their cruel words. You were never good enough and they made you think it would be better if you would just be gone.

They tore you apart, made you hate the girl in the mirror till you just wanted to give up, they put all the blame on you, they used you as a little girl sized punching bag, they made you believe that everybody grows up that way.

Since both of your parents were equally unstable people, it forced you to grow up quickly, so you could take care of them. Never would you know who that real version of yourself could’ve been, without all the trauma, a loss to carry forever.

How should you have known that what happened was wrong, if you never knew anything else. You thought the violence and the loneliness was part of being a little girl.

With time you became something akin to a shapeshifter, trying to be whatever it took to fulfill their desires, if it meant to be loved. Even just the tiniest amount of recognition, was worth giving yourself up.

But those closest betrayed you. Turns out it was all for nothing at all. All the sacrifices you made were so entirely useless, breaking yourself down to become the version they might’ve liked best, trying fit the shape of their choice and satisfy their deranged ego’s.

You scraped together any amount of savings you still had and sold everything you owned that was worth anything. Your Dad and Grandma gave you some money and that was it.

They had pushed you so far, you felt the need to flee to an entirely different continent, almost a 15 hour fly and 525 miles away from what was supposed to be home, that’s what it took to get some semblance of freedom and peace. Austin became your home, it was a fresh start and that’s exactly what was needed.

To much happened, to many unforgivable occurrences. You couldn’t ever heal in the place they broke you in, surrounded by abusers. They might have forgotten, painted an entirely new picture of the truth for themselves, but you’ll always remember what really went down.

You could still vividly remember your brother’s frantic calls once he realized you were gone. He couldn’t believe you’d really go through on that childish silly dream, he always laughed at you for saying, you’d just pack up one day and leave everything behind.

Guess he’s not laughing anymore.

After countless attempts you finally gave in and picked up, only to met by loud thundering voices yelling at you. It was all about how insane you must be, so incredibly selfish, overly dramatic, over-emotional and weak for simply running away.

A coward.

As always it’s just about them, their feelings and what would be best for them. No care for what you’d want and what the best for you could be.

You tolerated more than anyone else would’ve, before ending the call. It was just an accumulation of empty threats, supposed to put you back in line, but it did the opposite. That phone call was the last time you’d speak to them.

8 months have passed since leaving, its now May and here you sit lounging in the living room of your tiny two-room flat. The soft, grey, cloud-like couch was one of your best investments, making it your second favorite place besides your bed.

Its Friday. The clock shows that it’s close to 6 pm, the early-evening breeze flows in through the open balcony and alongside the bustling noises of the streets outside. Cars honking, tires screeching, kids yelling, people laughing and birds chirping, all of it reminds of the overwhelming world waiting outside of your safe bubble.

You just pulled out your rolling tray, trying to quiet your mind, you’ve barely finished licking the paper. When your phone suddenly goes *ping* *ping*, a sound you haven’t heard before.

Normally that might make you anxious but today you are just annoyed by any sort of interruption to your routine.

„Ughhh.”

You begrudgingly get up to retrieve your phone from the kitchen counter. When you reach it and take a look at the screen you immediately understand what caused the strange sound.

A notification for the Sugar-Daddy website you had started using earlier this week. You have tried those odd websites before, at 16 thinking it would be a good idea. Back then you were already after the attention of a mature, wealthy and significantly older Men.

Looking back you always had a weird infatuation with men outside your age range.

Your first kiss happened, when you were 13 and still played with dolls. He was 21 and had just gotten his drivers license, already moved out and had a job. He took you on a walk, then sat down on an old park bench and just kissed you which felt like heaven,at the time. He was your Bestfriend’s older brother who knew exactly how madly in love you were with him.

Two years later, at 15, you thought that 25 year old police apprentice was seriously interested in you, convinced he’d make you his. But, no, he wanted to fuck a minor, he was after the thrill of something tight and young, to be the first to break you in and then throw you away once you served your purpose.

Even though you were foolish and naive, the perfect opportunity for him to use, it seemed your desperate want for genuine love chased him away before he could go in for the kill.

In those instances you were lucky that nothin worse happened, but at 17 the luck had run out or maybe what happened is what you get for making the mistake of trusting.

It was the friendly guy in your semester group, the one who was troubled himself but made you feel like it’s okay, he seemed to understand you. He became a good friend, he made you feel less alone and in the end he became the biggest nightmare.

Your trust was already broken and played with many times before him, but what he did was one too much. He changed the way you viewed the world, the way you lived.

You were deeply afraid of ever running in to him again, and when it happened you could practically feel the world stop spinning.

It was just a worst case scenario that never came true until it did. You remember that day like it was yesterday, it was supposed to be a quiet run to the grocery store, shopping with a friend. Standing in the bread aisle, you were waiting beside the cart for your friend to make her decision. You just stared down at the ground for a split second before looking back up and there he was. Staring at you with this awful smile of his. Ringing in your ears, shivers running down your spine and shaking hands were all you needed to know that getting out of there was more than necessary.

As you stood at the cash register the thought that it might not have been him weaseled itself into your head. The hope that it might’ve been just some mix-up got crushed when a voice behind you spoke up. That voice, the way he talks, you would recognize it anywhere. He was right there, the monster who looked so nice in the beginning was just a couple inches away. You could practically feel him breathe down your neck, just like he did that night. Keeping your composure was the biggest challenge.

Afterwards on the way home, in your friends car you broke down, never ever would you want him that close again. He contributed to you wanting to get away.

Now at 21, even after everything that happened, you thought about giving the Sugar-Daddy thing one last chance. The money would be nice, of course it would, living free without having to worry, having someone who takes care of you and you get to just enjoy living, is the dream.

You wanted to experience that, so the Profil was created, a few pictures were added showing your face, one displayed a peak of cleavage and another with focus on your backside, wearing tight pants that accentuate your plush ass all while you are just sweetly gazing over your shoulder.

Those photos were choosen with good reasoning, you believed that showing skin would attract more attention from the Sugar-Daddy’s.

A classmate once told you „You know...the only fuckable thing about you is that set of tits and that ass. Nothin else, well except maybe ur mouth,“ all while smugly laughing.

And he wasn’t the only one who said shit like that, so you believed it, showin off the assets it was and it worked but none of these man were really what you were looking for.

After 2 days of being flooded with messages, little to nothing came through anymore which you were a bit happy about, since the overwhelming attention was too much too quickly.

You are a recluse, three friends that’s all you got, two of them not even living in Austin. A lot of times you just want to be alone with yourself. Branching out like 6 years ago is not your style anymore and you started to regret putting yourself out there like this. You would’ve probably deleted the profile if it wasn’t for the awfully handsome Man who apparently took a look at your profile which caused the whole strange notification-sound.

You could only see his name “Joel Miller” but that was enough to peak your interest.

You take your phone, walk back to the couch and sit down. You scutch backwards till you can feel the pillow at your back to lean against. You open his profile and your mouth goes dry instantly. He looks to be about 40 ish, his brown-grey streaked locks are neatly styled, a well groomed beard adorned his face and those grey patches certainly made you squirm in place.

They showed his age and that is what turned you on. His amber brown orbs were quickly pulling you in. In some of his photos he wore expensive lookin suits, all highly professional. In others he looked more casual, wearing flannels and even a cute hawaiian shirt in a picture that must’ve been taken on a beach.

He looked big, 6ft3 tall, tan skin, with broad shoulders, biceps that could crush you and his hands, oh they are a sight to behold, you thought of what he could possibly to with them. How would they feel on your body, holding your hand, caressing your face, stroking your head or squeezing your waist.

You feel your cheeks get warm, heart rate picking up and there is a tremble in your breathing, all because of him.

You can already imagine how much power he would have over you with his entire body, you want that.

With all the gawking and fanning you lost track of the time, 45 minutes where spend looking at him, that realization made you feel a bit embarrassed but it turned into shock when the *Ping* *Ping* sound of again, this time with a notification that read ”Congratulations, The verified Sugar-Daddy has sent you a message don’t let him wait to long, swipe here to answer,“ and then his name ”...Joel Miller“.

Maybe he would be different to those before him, maybe you got your luck back and so you decided swipe.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

People I think might be interested: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @punkshort @burntheedges @almostfoxglove @taeslarityy @joelsdagger @littlemisspascal

Taglist 🦋: @joelalorian @msjarvis @stevie75 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beefrobeefcal @baronessvonglitter @sherala007 @moonlitbirdie @thundermartini @sjc7542

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or taken off 🫶🏻

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #the last of us #modern au #joel miller x you #kinda slow burn #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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hederasgarden · 4 months

Text

Lewis Pullman Characters Masterlist

Outer Range

Oneshots

My Favorite Mistake (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 1.8K)

Half the reason you’re in the middle of nowhere Wyoming is because you’ve always been bad at choosing men. You expect Rhett Abbott will be no different.

Show Me The Ropes (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 1K)

Rhett’s talents with roping and knot tying translate well in the bedroom.

The Trouble With Books (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 1.2K)

You and Rhett discover a surprising new kink together.

I’ll Be Your Fantasy (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 2.4K)

Sequel to The Trouble With Books. Rhett helps you play out a new fantasy.

Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 1.5K) Rhett’s a handsy drunk, not that you mind.

Cowboy Trouble (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader x Rip Wheeler | Explicit l 3K)

When your boyfriend loses a game of poker, Rip Wheeler claims a night with you as the reward.

Drabbles

Take The Weight of Me (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 570)

You go to Rhett when you don’t want to think anymore.

I get on my knees, but it ain’t to pray (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 700)

In the darkness behind the bar, you find yourself on your knees, ready to take everything Rhett has to offer.

Learning to Ride (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 300)

Rhett teaches you the proper way to ride a bull (and him).

Oasis (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Gen l 650)

When you reach your limit, Rhett’s there to help.

Need You Now (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 650)

After the rodeo, Rhett shows you how much he wants you.

Take Me to Heaven (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader x Arvin Russell | Explicit l 700)

If heaven’s a place you’re certain it can be found between Rhett and Arvin.

Take a Breath (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Explicit l 250)

You and Rhett experiment with breathplay.

Hiraeth (Rhett Abbott x OC | Gen | 400)

A strange hole on the Abbott farm upends Mae Collin’s whole world.

Series

Stand By Me Masterlist (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Ongoing | Explicit)

When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbot becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you.

Small Mistakes New Beginnings Masterlist (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader | Ongoing | Explicit)

After you fall pregnant from a one-night stand with Rhett Abbott, both of your lives change forever.

Headcanons

Jealous Rhett

Rhett and Cowboy!Jake Crossover

Being Rhett’s Housewife

Teasing Rhett

Moodboards

Practical Magic AU

Top Gun

One Shots

All The Right Moves (Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace | Gen l 1.8K)

Your day takes a turn for the better when you meet not one but two cute Navy Pilots at the hospital.

Follow the Leader (Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace | Explicit l 883)

You and Bob love it when Phoenix takes charge.

Drabbles

Eager to Please (Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader | Explicit l 400)

You learn pretty quickly that Bob is eager to please, but he still manages to surprise you with a request.

Catch a Fallen Star (Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader | Mature l 350)

Mermaid!reader x Sailor!Bob. He’s the only survivor from the ship that broke apart on the rocky shores of the island last night. Well, there were others, but your sisters took care of them all too eagerly.

No Wingman Needed (Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace | General l 700)

When Hangman realizes you like Bob and Phoenix he tries to help.

Headcanons

The day Bob earns his call sign

A night of absolute devotion and attention with Bob

Moodboards

The Astronaut's Wife AU

Bad Times at the El Royale

Oneshots

Little Games (Miles Miller x F!Reader l Explicit l 1.4K)

Miles knows it’s wrong to watch you but he just can’t help himself.

Saving You (Miles Miller x F!Reader l Mature l 1K)

Miles has done a lot of bad things in his life but saving you isn’t one of them.

Series

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like (Vampire!Miles Miller x F!Reader | Explicit | Ongoing)

Your life changes the night a mysterious stranger rescues you, but you'll soon learn that salvation comes at a deep cost.

Drabbles

Sleeping Beauty (Miles Miller x F!Reader l Explicit l 820)

Sometimes it’s easier for Miles when you’re quiet.

Press Play

The Small Things (Harrison Knott x Plus Size!Librarian!F!Reader | Mature | Ongoing Series)

A chance encounter on the first day of your new job leads to something wonderful and unexpected

♡Main Masterlist♡

103 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Chapter One

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n | thank you to everyone who has expressed interest in this piece. I can't stress enough that while this work does deal with very dark, difficult subject matter, I always strive to speak to these things with as much care and respect as I can. I'd love to talk, if you'd like to share your thoughts on this one. thank you for reading.

.................................

Well the devil has been known to chase angels from their homes

And I know I got some angel left inside me

But my halo's hanging low

My halo's hanging low

And I'm nine hundred miles from my home

Angel Ballad as performed by Hurray for the Riffraff

................................

Quiet. It’s what he likes best about this job. The night comes on close and cool, even in the slow simmering slump of the summer. And nobody is ever out here at this time. No thrum and thrush of cars passing by on the highway. Just the jittery yips of coyotes, and maybe the growl of something bigger and meaner from time to time. Nights like this, he settles down in the drivers seat, letting the radio fizzle and thread through the quiet, whispered pasts and mournful words that he can hum along to.

But tonight is different.

He hears different before he sees it. That low murmur of an engine, and then the slow flood of headlights rounding the bend. Too fast, impossibly fast, there and gone. He fumbles, flicking on the siren and the lights before peeling onto the road, his car whimpering under the heavy demand of his foot on the gas pedal.

His whole body is a closed fist curled around the wheel, waiting for this person to give up, surrender in the flash of their brake lights. But they hold on for a while, long enough for his jaw to start to ache with the way his teeth grit and grind. But eventually, the slow give in.

Never gotten a taste for this, never liked this, the slow saunter up to the car, palm on the hood and the lean down, the spiel. He prefers the coyotes.

But tonight is different.

Different stops his words in his throat. Wide eyes, unblinking and unmoving from his. A quick glance to hands still on the wheel, knuckles tensing over and over again, ready to bolt. The strap of her tank top has fallen down the slope of her pallid shoulder. He blinks, twice, hard, half-expecting an apparition to dissolve into gossamer breath before his eyes. But she just stares at him, lips parted in breath that catches somewhere in her sternum.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?”

“I’m sorry, officer.”

“Probably a hundred and ten in a sixty-five. Where are you going this time of night anyways?”

“Do I have to answer that?” Said meek, a little warble, though her boldness still surprises him, a clip of laughter getting stuck in his throat, disbelief bubbling up.

“License and registration, please.” Her brow pinches and falls, eyes darting out along the highway like she’s looking for an answer. Knee bouncing, a jolted wire of a woman. Drugs, he thinks, maybe. Though he’s seen drugs, and drugs don’t look like this exactly. Fear, pure and simple.

“I can’t do that, officer.”

“Why not?” It startles him, fingers instinctively jumping to his holster when she suddenly jerks her hand off the steering wheel. But it’s only to draw her curled fingers to her mouth, worrying at split and sore-looking skin between her teeth.

“I just can’t.”

“If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to take you in.” She doesn’t respond to that, just continues to stare at him. Part of him wants to let her go, catch and release, a quiet warning to slow down. Harmless enough, he thinks, shivering like a beaten dog under his stare. But he knows he can’t do that.

“Please step out of the car, ma’am.” Relief when she complies, her eyes staying turned down to her sneakers as she shuts the car door behind her. He keeps his eyes on hers as he clicks on the radio on his shoulder.

“I need to get a plate checked, H-W-G–” Before he can read out the rest of her license plate number, her whole body jolts, a stuttered step toward him, her hands stretched out, palms stark white with the splay.

“No! No, please don’t do that. Please.” For some reason, he listens, clicking off his radio as he squints at her.

“Why shouldn’t I?” She’s washed out wan in the headlights of his car, her frown slanting in harsh shadows. No answer, he moves to speak into his radio again.

“It’s my husband’s– my husband’s car.” No ring on her finger, her eyes follow his in their quick sweep of her hand.

“It’s complicated.” He huffs, a tilt of his head toward his car. She takes two steps forward before stopping, considering him.

“You’re not going to cuff me?” “Ain’t got a reason to.” Not yet, at least. Still unsure just what this is, still trying to figure it out. He opens the door to the back of the car for her, not missing the wary flit of her eyes before she ducks into the backseat. Reluctant but willing to settle her anxious plumage in this cage.

They leave her car, or her husband’s car, on the shoulder of the highway, the station not too far away. He finds himself stealing glances at her, her expression unreadable in the bare glow of the few lone streetlights they pass.

And then, somehow, he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of somewhere other than the station, catching her confused look in the rear view mirror. There’s nobody else at the diner this time of night, the only building for another few miles before the small town comes into focus. A blinking, chipped beacon in the night.

“Are you hungry?” No answer, though he thinks that she presses herself back into the seat, a small shrinking. He sighs, getting out of the car and opening her door, somewhere between leaning down and hovering over her in what he hopes is a less intimidating posture.

“Just wanna talk, get the whole story from you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what all this is about.”

“Help me?” Said like it’s foreign to her, a concept she can’t even imagine.

“You like pancakes?” She does, he discovers, with blueberries and a thick swirl of syrup. She eats like she’s getting away with something, hurried, her eyes sweeping around the diner every so often. Hunger, a deep kind, like she hasn’t had a full meal in a while. He tries not to watch her too closely, taking cursory bites of his own meal. But his eyes get caught on the fragile flex and flick of muscle in her forearms. Elbows on the table, the fluorescent lighting shocks into focus a dark bloom of bruises running up both her arms. Half moons of pain, waning gibbous and gruesome. Like fingerprints. He pushes his plate away from himself, swallowing hard.

“You can have the rest of mine too, if you want. Or we can get you something else?” Her eyes go wide again, freezing mid-chew before she swallows with a shaky gulp, setting fork and knife down, hands tangling in a close fist in her lap, ashamed. He wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Where are you from?”

“Nebraska.” He’s a little surprised when she so quickly responds, though he nods, trying to school any expression from his face.

“And that’s where you’re coming from?” She nods, one palm absent-mindedly coming to curl behind her neck, her elbow resting in her hand that’s crossed over her stomach, a small defense, or at least the posture of it.

“You said that’s your husband’s car. Does he know you have his car?”

“I imagine he has an idea by now.”

“Does he know where you are?”

“I hope not.” She says it with a weak laugh, though her lashes stay dropped to her cheeks, not looking at him as she says it. He’s starting to feel a sick curl in his stomach, getting tangled up in something that he shouldn’t be, and he hasn’t the slightest idea why.

What he should do. What he should do is take her to the station and let someone else handle this. Someone who knows how to handle this. What he should do is let work be work, and what he should do is not get involved any further than the meal he bought for her.

“My name’s Joel.” He holds his hand out across the table, though she doesn’t take it, just works her fingers a little harder into the nape of her neck.

“I’m Dolores.” How fitting, he thinks. Our lady of sorrow, and she certainly looks every bit of it.

“May I ask what you were planning to do with a stolen car, going a hundred and ten in a sixty-five, Dolores?” She sniffs back the swim in her eyes, chin tucking up, a pantomime of conviction.

“I was getting away.”

What he should do, he doesn’t. What he does do, he shouldn’t.

“You understand that if you keep driving that car, eventually you’re gonna get tracked down one way or another?”

“I was gonna get rid of it once I got into Utah.”

“You got any money?”

“No.”

“You got family in Utah?”

“No.” He almost doesn’t want to ask anymore questions, seeing the way she starts to wilt with each no, her shoulders curling in like a despondent cage.

“So, what exactly was the plan?” He tries to ask it quiet, trying to temper his doubt, though she still winces.

“I already told you.”

“Getting away?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve already done that. What, eight hours worth or thereabout?” She nods.

“I think you need a better plan, Dolores.” Her lips collapse in an instant frown, and he regrets the words, digging the knuckles of his fist into his thigh to keep anything else from coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t know any more.” Like a child, like a hopeless child. Before he can respond, the waitress comes back around, filling up their coffee cups, a friendly, familiar word to him and an uncertain look to Dolores who keeps her eyes down on an invisible spot on the table. Just enough time for him to think over what he shouldn’t do.

“Do you want my help?”

…

When Sarah went off to college, and when Austin got to be too much, and when the work got to be too much as well, he decided he needed a change. Sold his half of the business to Tommy and used that money to buy a palmful of land. Small town, strange town, right in the curve of a mountain, just a few hours outside of Boulder. Sarah calls, and comes home for the holidays. Tommy not so much, a sour spat that has lingered between them ever since Joel left. Both of them too prideful to be the first to break, little brother that wanted more and wanted it fast, and big brother that was ready for everything to slow down and get silent.

He has enough money saved for his job at the station to be something that keeps him busy a few nights a week more than anything else. And in the meantime.

“Do you have animals?” She sits in the passenger seat now, pointing out to the dark outline of the barn and coop as they pass it.

“Got sheep, and chickens. But between you and me, I don’t care much for the chickens.” An attempt at lightness, he bites down on his own smile when he catches the small curve of her mouth in his periphery.

Small house, sleeping house in a thick flare of brush and trees. He lets her do it on her terms, leaves the front door wide open and tries not to watch as she steps through the threshold, busying himself with linens and towels for her. Part of him is surprised that she agreed to come with him at all. But the other part of him knows why she did. It was this, or going back, and she wasn’t about to do that.

“There’s a guest room down the hall. My daughter stays there when she visits so it shouldn’t be too bad.” She just nods, hands held loosely in front of her, quick sweeps of her eyes when he turns on a lamp, warm shadows and light. It takes her a beat to follow him down the hall, leaving a wide swath of space between them even when she steps into the room, watching him set the sheets down on the bed and flick on the light, her back pressed against the wall.

“Bathroom is the first door on the left. And I’m upstairs if you need anything.” She still doesn’t move, only offering him another nod.

“We can go into town tomorrow. Get you some clean clothes and see about some work for you.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t miss it, the way she takes two shuffled steps back when he moves closer, even though it’s only so he can get to the doorway.

“Try to get some sleep.” He doesn’t think he’ll get a response from her, already making his way out of the room, but.

“Thank you, Joel.” He stops in his tracks, turning over his shoulder to look at her, though he doesn’t say anything, just a puff of breath that’s loud enough to sound like an answer before he shuts the door to her room behind him.

He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. Repeats to himself what a bad idea this is with each step up the stairs to his room. He shouldn’t, but he did.

What he offered her was time. And place. Time and place for her to find a better plan for herself. Make some money, stop the shake in her limbs, unbothered and unnoticed in a quiet town like this.

The husband’s car is a problem he hasn’t worked out yet, though he has some ideas. Pop off the plates and squirrel them away, let the car get found by some other patrolman, let it be a mystery. Or just leave the car as is, abandoned on the side of the highway, and let the husband wonder where his wife ran off to in the middle of nowhere. Not a fitting punishment, he thinks, but something nonetheless.

For now though, there’s a stranger sleeping downstairs. A stranger that he has decided to help. He has been so careful at alone. At keeping people and place at arm’s length. And tonight, he has ruined that in one maybe, probably, stupid choice. But he’s never been one to change his mind, stubborn to a fault. So he lets one more shouldn’t fizzle out in his thoughts, and then resolves himself to this reality. A stranger sleeping downstairs who he is going to help. And not really a stranger now. Her name is Dolores. An old-fashioned name, he thinks. A weeping name, a wailing name. A name that demands it be said on a sigh. He wonders if she would like a new name, if she will need a new name. A problem for later, already getting ahead of himself.

…

She’s sitting on the couch in the living room when he comes downstairs, her legs tucked up under her, head propped in the cup of her palm, looking out the window. Part of him half-expected her to be gone. A finely threaded figment slipped through his fingers. But she’s there, and she doesn’t notice him at first.

“Morning.” It startles her, that close curl in on herself as she finally looks at him, and he again finds himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, had just let her be in that quiet moment.

“Hi.”

“Get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” Said from behind her palm, he’s pretty sure it isn’t honest. Dark, drooping eyes and a heavy pull in her frame, truth without telling.

He’s not sure if he should ask, so he doesn’t. He hides a smile when she follows him anyways, out onto the front porch and toward the coop.

“Do they have names?” Her eyes brighten when the first of the ladies strut out of the coop, dipping and bobbing their heads with self-righteous clucks and chirps.

“No, I can barely tell who’s who.” Her brow furrows, mouth screwing to the side as she watches the chickens, already bowing beaks to the dirt to pluck fresh crawling things for their breakfast.

“Still, they should have names.” It seems to be an absent-minded thought that happens to come out in words, her eyes still focused on the fuss and flutter of the birds as she says it.

“Well if you come up with any, let me know.” He says it halfway over his shoulder as he ducks into the coop, swallowing down how strange this is. But we are so good at reconfiguring around strange, aren’t we? Fitting strange into our lives as if it was always meant to be there. So, he collects the eggs from the coop, listening to the faint sound of what he thinks is her quietly murmuring to the chickens, though she’s quiet again when he joins her.

Two for her and two for him, he gets no answer when he asks her how she likes her eggs, a ghost lingering in the doorway to the kitchen, like she’s surprised when he acknowledges her presence. Fried, fizzled fat around the edges, he hopes it will do, setting two plates down at the table.

“Coffee?”

“Please.” His back turned as he pours two cups, his ears prick to the sound of the chair scraping out, and then a long sigh, a settling. She waits for him to sit down before she lets her hands stray from her lap. A careful bite of her eggs, yolk splitting and spilling gold against the edge of her fork.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” Quiet, he keeps his eyes on his plate and his mug, only quick flickers up to see that she’s doing much the same.

“There’s a drugstore in town, and a secondhand shop. We can head in after breakfast to get you, uh, situated.” Situated, because he’s certain she’s been wearing that same tank top and jean shorts for a few days now, rumpled around the edges.

“Okay, I’ll pay you back for it, all of it. Soon as I get some money saved. Just– just hold onto the receipts?” Question more than command, he just nods.

It used to be a mining town, way, way back. Then it went dormant for a while, picked back up and polished over by the commune movement in the seventies, the vestiges of flower power and free love still evident in some of the older residents. Long hair and bluejeans and leather sandals and skin. But mostly, it’s quiet folk. Ranchers and farmers, the occasional dirtbag blowing through, looking to climb something he has no business climbing, wary looks passed at the prospect of a large backpack trundling down the main, and only, drag of town. Newcomers are spectacle, something Joel learned when he moved here four years ago. But the novelty is fast to wear off, everything and everyone blending together in the thin mountain air. Jobs to do and seasons to plan for, after all.

Dolores is new though, and especially unexpected walking through town with him. Eyes lingering hot on the back of his neck, he can only imagine how she’s starting to feel, a small mercy that they’re already stepping inside the secondhand shop. It smells like cedar and damp. He only comes in here when he absolutely needs a new something after something else finally wore itself out, but he knows the owner well enough.

“Patty?”

“In the back, give me a minute!” She doesn’t take a minute, already blustering out from the back of the shop, a crooked grin when she sees him.

“Joel Miller, been a while since you’ve been in here. Did those jeans of yours finally–” Patty stops mid-sentence, mid-stride, her eyes stuttered stuck on Dolores, who looks about ready to dissolve, hands clasped across her waist like she might cave in on herself.

“Patty, this is a friend of mine. She’s gonna be staying with me a while and needs some clothes.” Patty looks perplexed, clearly waiting for him to explain the rest, though she doesn’t press when he stays silent, her attention settling back on Dolores.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you then. I’m Patty, but you already knew that.” Surprise when Patty holds her hand out for a shake and Dolores easily reciprocates, though he supposes the terms they’re meeting on are a little less jarring than what happened last night.

“I’m Dolores, nice to meet you.”

“Huh, you don’t hear that name too often these days.” Patty has always been something of a force, and now is no different, Joel barely getting in a low murmur that he’ll meet Dolores outside of the store when she’s finished. Patty nods absent-mindedly when he tells her to put the cost on his tab, too busy coaxing Dolores further into the store, something about jeans and sweaters for the soon to come snap of fall the last thing he hears as he steps outside.

…

“Is Sarah visiting soon?” Joel pauses in placing the items on the checkout counter, at first confused by Rod’s question. But then he realizes that yes, this haul looks much like what he picks up when his daughter comes to visit. Toothbrush and toothpaste, because she always manages to forget them, and feminine products that he’s been buying long enough for her that he doesn’t feel the least bit bashful about putting them in his basket. His best guess for what Dolores might need. This time, not for Sarah.

“Uh, no, no. Just have a friend staying with me for a while.” He knows that everyone in town is going to run with the word friend. In his mid-forties, he’s one of the youngest members of the community, and there’s been plenty of times when one of his well-meaning neighbors has tried to set him up with their daughter who’s just visiting, but it could be more than just visiting, you know. Yeah, right. He prefers the coyotes.

Rod finishes ringing him up, a nod and another comment about the oncoming fall that Joel agrees with, friendly enough, always speaking in terms of seasons out here. For now though, the mid-day sun is still unforgiving, burning the tips of his ears as he sits down on the bench outside the secondhand shop. A few people pass, all greeting him by name, and he does the same. It’s easy in a town like this, not too many to remember anyways.

Eventually, Dolores comes out with a thick stack of folded clothes in her arms, a pair of worn-looking work boots settled on top.

“All set?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“I think I did okay at the drugstore, just let me know if you need anything else.” He rests the brown paper bag on his hip, stepping into stride beside her as they walk back to his car, reminding him of that mistake he needs to set right.

“Gotta get this car back to the station and pick up my truck. We’ll stop there on the way back.” She stiffens and stops instantly, her shoulders hiking up high and hackled as she frowns at him, making no move to get into the car now.

“That’s not– not like that. You can wait in the truck, I just have to go in for a minute, okay?” Cagey, a broken bird getting ready to attempt lift-off. He feels himself holding his breath for her response. It doesn’t come in words, another nod as she ducks into the passenger seat, her bundle of clothes settling in her lap, palms smoothing over fabric again and again and again.

The thought occurs to him again as they drive toward the station. What the fuck is he doing? This jagged woman, all skittish and sharp around her worn-away edges. Though not much time to consider it as they pull into the lot, a new problem presenting itself.

“You go wait in the truck, alright? Don’t worry about this.” She scoffs, a broken piece of a laugh in the back of her throat as her eyes stay trained on the tow in the station’s lot, her husband’s car still hooked to its cable. He doesn’t give her time to question it, just nestles his truck’s keys on top of her pile of clothes and reaches across her to open her door, mindful to keep plenty of space between his arm and her. Wordlessly, she acquiesces, shuffling over to the truck Joel had jerked his head toward.

“Morning, Miller.”

“Morning, what’s going on out there?” John sighs behind a swig of coffee, leaning against the front desk in the office of the station. Big man, amicable man, lived in this town his whole life, wife and two kids still in elementary school that they have to ride the bus a half hour to get to. He was who offered Joel this job about a year after he moved to town, something about not minding an extra pair of hands and eyes on the team.

“Someone reported an abandoned car on the side of the interstate early this morning. Just ran the plates, turns out it was called in stolen in Lincoln, Nebraska two days ago.” A longer than eight hour drive, he thinks, though he keeps his face unmoving, just a hum of acknowledgement to what John tells him.

“Well that’s something else.”

“That isn’t all. Apparently, the guy is pretty sure it was his wife who stole it, because she went missing the same day. If you ask me, a woman’s gotta have a real good reason to just pick up and run away like that.” That sick feeling starts to slurry in his stomach again, though he tamps it down with a hard clear of his throat.

“It’s quite the story, John. But where’s the wife then?”

“That’s the thing. The car was abandoned, not a sign of anyone around. All we found inside was a ratty-looking book in the passenger’s seat.”

“Huh.” He glances back out into the lot over his shoulder, rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s still thinking through what John just told him. What he’s really doing is checking on Dolores, still in the passenger’s seat of his truck, worrying at her thumbnail between her teeth.

“Anyways, if you see a lost-looking woman wandering around, bring her in. Though I reckon she’s long gone by now, God bless her.” Joel nods, talking numbly through all the requisite things he must, shifts and schedules, relief in his ringing ears when he steps back outside into the hard bake of the sun. He takes one more look at the tow from over the hood of his car, a shake of his head, a sigh, a conclusion, and then the slam of his car door.

…

“Can I help?” He nearly drops the pail of water he was carrying she startles him so bad. All cleaned up, in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, already fitting into the landscape, squinting at him through the late-afternoon glare.

“If you want, you can grab that other pail and come help me top up their water.” A little unsteady with the slosh of it, she still manages just fine, following him out into the pasture, the flock already nosing closer to their water troughs.

“Are they all girls?” Something like wonder laces through her question, taking a tentative step closer to one of the sheep, too domestic for Joel’s taste, though Dolores just laughs when the animal noses at her open palm.

“There’s two rams, they’re always a little late to the party, but you can just see them over that hill. The one on the left is Casper, and the one on the right is Lloyd.”

“So you can tell your sheep apart, but not your chickens?” That’s new, a crackle to her words that makes him laugh as he finishes filling the water trough. But she’s still focused on the lady who is now demanding her full attention, snuffling at the hem of her shirt as she scratches between her ears.

“Does this girl have a name?”

“That’s Avril. My, uh, my daughter named her when I first got her.” She smiles, a little laugh when the sheep starts to jaw at the fabric of her shirt.

“Like that pop singer?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She was a big fan as a teen.”

“My little sister was too.” Her face falls the instant the words leave her mouth, the bitter flavor of the past turning her quiet all over again. Another piece that he tucks away somewhere in his mind, still quick to change the subject, to keep her in the present.

“Forgot to mention, I talked with Sal in town– he owns that diner. Said he was looking for a new waitress to work day shifts. I know it ain’t much but–”

“No, that’s– anything is good, perfect.” The sheep is starting to pull at the bottom of her shirt, Dolores too polite to do anything more than pat her lightly on the head, a small sound of protest when the fabric starts to get rucked up her stomach by the animal’s continued mouthing.

“You know better than that, c’mon now, get.” He gives the sheep a gentle shove, earning himself a dejected bleat, though she finally gives up Dolores’ shirt, joining the rest of the flock in their huddle around the trough. For her part, Dolores doesn’t take two steps back to his two steps closer. For his part, Joel tries not to pay too much attention to this fact.

“So, should I go talk to Sal tomorrow?” He has to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the crumpled hem of her shirt, settling for stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah, I’ll take you over there tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you?”

“Mmhmm, uh, yeah, thank you.” She seems to be holding words back beneath the pinch of her brow and the tight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Joel waits, watching her rub her palms down the front of her jeans, like a little quick heat will coax more voice out. Finally, she lets out a breath that clips itself like a laugh, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I guess I’m waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“Yeah, you know, like, for the catch?” She says it squinting, her arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip pulled between her teeth when she finishes.

“I– that’s not– there’s no catch. You seem like you need some help, and, well, I can.” Help, still a word she’s not familiar with, something falling in her face when he says it.

This woman who is a stranger to help. This woman who is still a stranger to him, if he’s being honest. What he knows, she has a little sister. What he knows, the bruises painted dark and dull along her arms make him sick with the want to do something for her. What he knows, the small slip of delight that slackens her frown as she watches the sheep nudge and nuzzle against each other makes him giddy with the want to do something for her.

Stranger or not, help, because he can. Care, because he can.

...........................

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queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

When It Rains, It Pours

prompt: ( requested ) after a long hike, you and Joel find a rundown motel, and after finding the cleanest room, there's only one bed.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 4.4k+

note to requester: i know i said i'd get slutty but it wasn't going the way i wanted it - so, we've come to this. i'm so sorry 😭

warnings: cursing, we all pretend like we're not all dirty and disgusting from the apocalypse, mild mild mild smut but still NSFW [female-receiving fingering]. OC Joel who has a thing for pet names. author doesn't know what this is and promises she normally writes better.

The night was pitch ebony, swirling thick darkness making it hard to see in the absence of the silvery moon. There had been a wicked storm that brewed quickly overnight, and being as you and Joel were making a supply run into an area you don't often venture, it was easy to lose yourselves in the wilderness. If it wasn't the night that disrupted sight, it was the sideways rain that pelted over you two; and no matter a functioning compass or not, it was still hard to fucking see, let alone gage where you were.

"Joel!" You snapped, "This is fucking ridiculous. We're either going to wonder into a fucking trap or catch pneumonia. In case you're not paying attention, we're not exactly strapped with penicillin right now!"

He sighed, the two of you huddling under a tree. "We're almost there," he told you gruffly after hours of silent hiking.

"Yeah? How's it you know that? The rain is washing out the trails, Joel, we're kinda stuck out here with no real indication of where we are or where the fuck we're going!"

"No, we keep heading West - "

"How can you even determine which way is which!?" You snapped. "Our flashlights went out an hour ago, we should've made camp to wait out the storm."

"So the rain water could wash us out? Or so Infected could accidentally stumble upon us? Oh, wait, I know! So the other humans could come and rob us blind before leave us for dead, right?"

You offered a mocking look, "Then what do we do now, genius?"

Joel sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his curls out and spraying water all around. He tried to look through the trees but it was difficult to see three feet in front of yourself. "We should keep moving," he decided.

"I agree but our dilemma is, which way?"

"Uh," he tried to wipe the compass clean but in reality, he simply couldn't see from lack of light. "Shit."

"Yeah! Shit!"

"Don't get snippy with me - "

"I told you at least three miles back that this wasn't doable nor smart," you glared. "We should've been better prepared. So, where to now?"

"Well, I mean - "

"Fuck's sake, Joel, are we lost now?"

He paused, "Not exactly lost..."

"Just unsure, right? A little misplaced? Confused, even?"

"Just - c'mon." You glared at the back of his head but pushed off the tree trunk to follow him. "Bill said there's an old motel 'round these parts. With luck, we can crash there."

"If we're even in those parts," you growled.

"Well, keep an eye out."

"Have I slapped you today?"

Joel hummed, "Nope."

"There's still time," you huffed, yelping slightly when your foot stepped into a thick mud hole - tripping you into the flooding mud. "Ah, fuck! Ow! Hey, Joel?"

"What happened?"

"I'm stuck," You grit, trying to yank your leg free. "Fuck's sake, it's really in there. Joel, c'mon, help me out. What the fuck is this new Earth made of? Bastard ain't budgin'!"

Joel had to pause and double back to simply kneel, soaking his knee with mud, and after three good yanks, there were two pops: a loud one from freeing your foot (with your shoe still on) and a small one from within your ankle.

"Shit," Joel panted, wobbling for balance with a small pant. "You all right?"

"My fuckin' ankle," you breathed. "God, I twisted it real good, 's throbbing and swelling already."

"Think you're good to walk?"

"Gonna have to be," you used his offered hands to help you to your feet as you refused to be left behind as dead weight. In this day-and-age, you understood that injury would often get you left behind because nobody had the strength or ability to support the weak and injured. You tried a few slow, tentative steps but they were decently painful, so, Joel sighed and let your one arm sling around his neck to aid you as a crutch. "This is not ideal."

"No shit," he breathed, trying to keep hold on you, his gun, and keep his head on a swivel.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, what's that?"

"What's what, where?"

"Just pause, Joel, hang on, hang on," you snipped, tugging his shoulders You took a full minute to retrain your gaze, but then, you saw the outline of a building. "There," you pointed through the trees. "Do you see that?"

Joel squinted for a long moment, then nodded, "Could be the motel."

"Oh, thank you, God," you sighed, the pair of you moving for the motel as the storm drowned out any grunts of exertion. Bolts of lightning flashed to only confirm the building's appearance, and thunder seemed to reach into your bones. When closer, the building came in clearer view - shadowed, rundown, overgrown with vegetation... But with a few opened room doors.

"Here," Joel panted, leaning you on a thick tree trunk along the tree line. "I'll check it out - "

"Like hell you're going alone," you shook your head, pulling your hand gun out. "But it's also cold as shit and I'm drenched, I'm more than willing to help search the area if it means I lay down. C'mon, I can go slow on the ground floor."

Joel paused for a moment, then nodding slowly, "I'll check out the top. Shoot first, ask questions later," he reminded with a meaningful stare - as if he wanted to say more but couldn't. "And fucking run if you have to."

You offered a tired look, "Still givin' me that advice, all this time later?"

"Someone has to, you're chaotic and reckless."

"It's gotten me this far!"

"With bullet wounds."

"Flesh wounds," you instantly corrected, limping across the car park. "C'mon," you muttered, the two of you spacing out and slowly checking out the motel. Without your flashlights, it was ten times as difficult, but you had a little bit of a system.

Any door that opened, you tossed something into the room to rattle any Infected from rest. You'd wait at the open door, hoping the bolts of lightning were enough light to guide you. Some rooms were bolted shut, some literally fell off its hinges. Some were ransacked, some looked torched, others seemed... Lived in.

"Joel!"

"What?" He asked, appearing behind you so suddenly you jumped in fright. The man should often wear a bell, he was too sneaky for his own good.

"Fuck you," you sighed, shaking your head, "you know I'm jumpy."

"What is it? Why'd you call?"

"What's this look like to you?" She asked, pointing into the room as she stepped back. He offered a confused look before glancing in, then doing a double take.

"Gun up," he nodded, slowly taking two calculated steps inside to reach for the oil lamp he saw through the flashes of lightning. He got it lit using the leftover lighter, amazed by the way the lamp provided the room with warm light and also how nothing moved in the room.

It was almost suspicious after years of 'worst case scenarios' coming true. I mean... Look where you were! In the Wastelands of stupid-fucking Zombie World. Doesn't really get more 'worst case' than this!

Slowly, Joel checked out the closet and bathroom as you looked under the bed - wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on a second.

Pause.

Freeze frame.

Back up.

Record scratch.

One bed? Just one?

And as if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed to be unusually small. There was no way this bed belonged to this room, making you wonder from where the old inhabitants came from... Local, perhaps, if they transported a fucking mattress. Looking around, you realized the bed wasn't in the best condition, but there were blankets and thin pillows left behind.

Trying not to worry about the single bed, you poked around the materials in the room, Joel exiting the bathroom.

"We're alone," he nodded, looking skeptical.

"What do you think happened?"

He toed a few empty old cans, sighing, "Probably went out to find food. Not much other reason to leave." He picked up a child's stuffed animal, nodding, "Guess they just didn't make it back."

"All right, well," you shrugged, setting your gun down to lock the bolt on the door, "help me out here."

Joel stepped up and helped you move furniture in front of the door for added protection; then drawing the tattered curtains over the lone window to try and provide comfort in solidarity.

"All right," Joel sighed, staring at the bed like you had. "Hm, all right. Well... Let me get a blanket or two and I'll crash in the tub - "

"Like hell you are," you scoffed, shivering from the freezing rain water. "I'm not listening to you bitch and gripe and moan about your back all the way to Bill and Franks - and then all the way back to Boston."

"So, what? You think we're both gonna fit in that bed?"

You eyed it for a moment, but the cold was settling into your core. "You afraid to touch me or something?" You asked sarcastically. "Oh, right, I forgot, God forbid you get close to someone!"

Joel sighed your name in reprimand.

"What's the issue?" You whined, hands shoved under your arms. "I'm freezing, man, can we make a decision so I can at least have the decency to pass away in my sleep? Fuck's sake."

Joel glared, "That's not funny."

"What's your issue!?"

"It's not so much as us sharing the bed as it is we'd have to strip and share the bed," he tried to explain.

"You're almost 60-God-damn-years-old, but you're nervous about seein' me without clothes on? Are we in 6th grade again? Did we go back in time and I missed it!?"

"You've made it clear since day one you didn't want nothin' to do with me - "

"What the fuck are you on about?" You snapped. "Joel, honestly? You're the most important person in my life. I care about Tommy, I care for Tess, sure, but I wouldn't be gutted losing them. I would be if I ever lost you. So, shut the fuck up about how I didn't want nothin' to do with you, we share a fuckin' apartment - "

"That's because of space issues," Joel sighed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you took a long breath. "Joel?"

He rolled his neck out, "What?"

"I care about you," you simply said. "And I'd much rather lay in that bed awkwardly without clothes on, sharing body heat, than stand here another moment. We're both drenched, my ankle is throbbing, and you know what? I'm tired. I'm really fucking tired and that rain isn't letting up."

He sighed, nodding, "We might have to keep shelter for a day."

"So long as I can get warm, that's fucking fine," you shrugged. "Now, are you good? Is it okay to try to rest?"

Joel sighed, glancing at the bed and feeling his throat tighten. The bed was smaller than he hoped, and in honesty, you two would be lucky laying on your sides, pressed against one another, and not fall off. "Fine," he agreed, seeing how you were now trembling without control. "Fuck, I'm sorry, look at you, you're shakin'," he sighed, approaching you with rushed steps.

"Just cold, Joel," you complained, stiffly letting your pack fall off.

"No, you're fuckin' frozen," he sighed. "C'mon, get this jacket off."

"I-I'm tryin'."

"Want help?"

"Please, I'm just fuckin' tired," you groaned, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as he worked to shed your outer jacket.

"Work with me, sweetheart, lift your arms, there you go, that's it, good girl," he whispered, trying to help you peel more layers off. "You look like hell," he frowned, the flickering oil lamp providing minimal visuals from the shadowing, but in a warm, honied light.

"Feel like hell, too," you looked down your leg, sighing at the mud caked up them. "You look at peachy as ever," you tried to tease, but it came out in a shudder from a shocking wave of cold.

"Sit," Joel directed, turning you to lean on the bed's edge. He knelt to take your boots off - taking care of your injured ankle - and left your shoes at the bottom of the bed. He peeled your socks off, sighing as your toes were turning a slight shade of blue. "All right, quickly now. Lift your hips, let me get your pants off."

"Tryna get me naked, huh?" You grunted, flopping backwards on the bed.

"Keep talkin'," he grunted, unhooking the button on your jeans to start peeling them down. It turned into more of a shucking, and he tried not to notice how your panties tugged down, too.

"This is stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Bill gave us fried information, Joel, ain't shit out here."

"He was right about the motel, though. Maybe we get a fresh start when the storm clears."

"Maybe we just say fuck it and go live with Bill and Frank."

Joel chuckled, "Yeah? That's what we should do?"

"Yeah, fuck people."

"All right, now," he sighed, successfully getting your pants to your thighs without your panties following. "So, fuck people, we go live like hermits?"

"Yep, better than under FEDRA's heel."

"They pay good money for pills," he reminded, sighing deeply. "All right, little one - "

"I hate that nickname."

Joel sighed, seeing your eyes closed but brows crinkled. "Peach?"

"Yeah, that's the one I like," you hummed with a soft smile.

Joel allowed himself a solemn chuckle, "All right, peach, let's get you under the covers."

"Poor excuse for 'em," you grunted, rolling over a bit to shuffle under the blankets. "They're scratchy."

"They're wool," Joel noted, petting the blanket. "They'll warm you up."

"Can't feel my toes."

"Let's hope your lips go numb soon."

"Fuck off, I blame you for this."

"You blame me for the storm?"

"Yes," you grumbled, shifting under the blankets to take your last layer off - your tank top - and tossing it at Joel. Your bra followed. "Lay those out for me, will you?"

"Mhm," he grunted, doing as you bid, but also laying out your other clothes. Your eyes didn't open out of pure exhaustion, and after a few minutes, Joel's weight was dipping the mattress. "Feelin' all right, peach?"

"Mhm."

The oil lamp went out, and Joel shifted in bed. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, trying to adjust, but every movement jolted your body. The mattress was worn and old, sinking under your weight but still loose enough to jostle you around. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's all right, but just settle down, Joel, please," you sighed, eyes cracked as he still twitched around. "Oh, my God, please, just - spoon me or something. Just whatever gets you to lay still."

"It's just too small a space."

"Then get closer."

Joel sighed and shuffled once more, but then, his chest was pressed right up to your back and soon, you were being cocooned in his warmth. Another readjustment, and his legs were forming around yours. "All right?" He checked again.

"Mhm."

He sighed, "Can I lay my arm down?"

"Yeah," and now, your eyes were wide open, but in the pitched darkness of the room, Joel couldn't tell. His arm, thick with undefined muscle due to natural age-deterioration, laid over your hip and waist - trying to find a comfortable angle. "You're warm. Feels nice," you mumbled.

"I'm... Sorry?"

"No, no, it's good," you assured, trying to throw him a bone and took hold of his arm to pull him the last inch closer. You cradled his arm to your chest, and Joel sighed almost in relief. He soon started to relax - but you couldn't help but notice he still felt tense.

"You're shaking."

"I'm cold, shut up and go to sleep," you snipped, but your lips stretched in a smirk. His nose slowly traced the skin of your neck to rest just by your ear, pausing, and then tightening his arm to let himself rest in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm over your skin, and oh, fuck, did it feel good. In fact, you even hummed, mumbling, "Warm."

"You sound drunk."

"You fucking wish."

Joel sighed, his other arm easily sliding under the skimpy, thin, decaying pillows you used. For a singular, secular moment: everything was normal. There were no Infected. There was no end of the world. There was just you and Joel, maybe on a camping vacation and this was your night in a motel before hiking into the wilderness. He was warm, he was alive, he was breathing against your back and neck that you couldn't help but give a brief moment of thanks for the gentle reminder you two were okay for the present.

You were alive, and that was a huge relief.

Things seemed to quiet for a moment, until Mother Nature made her cruel reminder that She was the only force on Earth to be reckoned with by cracking a large boom of thunder. One so loud, it rattled the window. One so loud, it created small tremors in the pooling-waters. One so loud, soaking-wet leafs dropped from branches. One so loud, it made you jump and recoil back into Joel.

"You're okay," he eased in your ear, cracks of lightning flashing behind the thin, moth-eaten curtains. "Scared of thunder or somethin'?"

"No."

"Then why's your heart racing?"

It was only then you became acutely aware that when you jumped, you had subconsciously pulled Joel's arm in and his hand was nearly pressed over your entire breast. Just a hair's adjustment and he'd have hold of your nipple; the feeling exhilarating but also somehow forbidden. "Oh," you flinched in embarrassment, "sorry, I just... I'm not the biggest fan of thunder when it cracks like that."

"You're breathing funny."

"All right, this isn't gonna work if you're just gonna keep pointing out shit. I can do it to you, too, you know."

"But I'm not - "

"You're hard," you pointed out smugly, Joel going silent.

But then, you didn't expect him to gruffly reply, "Can you blame me?" Your breathing stuttered when his hand freely moved up to palm your breast tightly; kneading as if holding a fresh loaf of French bread. "Got the prettiest thing pressed against me, bare fuckin' naked, it'd be impossible not to be hard," he all but growled in your ear, you trying to clear your head as his actions were mesmerizing you. "Don't even know what you do to me, doll, do you?"

"No," you squeaked, gulping to clear your throat. "Gonna tell me?"

He chuckled, "Remember that real bad fight between Tess and I? Few years back? When she stormed out and slammed the door so loud, it knocked over those books?"

"Yeah?" You panted, slowly pushing your hips back to let your bottom grind into his bulge. You wore only your panties, feeling Joel hot and heavy against the curve of your ass through his thin and wearing-out boxers. He usually only liked wearing them for hikes for chaffing, so, most days in the QZ, he forwent boxers.

"It was cause of you," he whispered, both hands sure to leave bruises behind as he let his hips meet yours.

"I didn't - "

"No, doll, you ain't do nothin'," he cut you off, grunting slightly as he dry humped into you. "But I fucked up. I was so stuck in my head, it was durin' that heat wave. You wore that fuckin' grey tanktop and I was done for, girl. Hear me? Fuckin' done." You shuddered against him. "Felt like a God damn teen again, not sure what to do when he saw a woman's skin."

"What's you do?" You wondered.

"Might've said your name," he admitted, the hand not palming your breast snaking under your form to wiggle between your thighs. "Women don't like you bein' balls-deep in them, sayin' another woman's name."

"No, we certainly don't," you mused, reaching back for his neck.

Joel took this as invitation and rutted harder into you, letting your breast go to guide your leg back over his hip. Then, it darted back to grope the warm flesh. He grunted in your ear, "You were in my head, darlin'. Always have been, but it was real bad back then."

You remembered, "Because I was seein' that guy? Oliver?"

"Think so," he panted.

"Jealous?"

"Terribly," Joel growled, toying with your wet (from rain) panties for a moment before easing his hand into the front of your panties. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, girl," he noted in appreciation.

"It's from the rain."

"Yeah? That so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Even down here?" He smirked, middle finger ghosting over your slit to make you twitch with the smallest of gasps. Long forgotten were your freezing cold state, finding Joel similar to a personal furnace.

Okay, time for a little bit of truth. Ever since you started having "regular" sex, you learned that while cocks are nice, it's so much more pleasurable for you to have a man with skilled fingers. You liked that stimulation so much better for some reason - but hey, hey, hey, if Joel wanted to offer you a romp in the sheets, you wouldn't say no.

"Yep," you gulped, answering your companion and reaching for his other hand to forcefully grope your breast. It'd been far too long since you were intimate with another person, so, you didn't want nice and gentle. You weren't even sure if this thing with Joel would (or could) ever happen again, so, you really didn't want it nice and gentle.

"Darlin'," Joel warned, moaning in your ear as he slipped his finger inside you - wetness welcoming him like a vortex into your unknown. "I don't think I can stop - we should stop now. We should stop now, doll, c'mon."

"I'm not doin' anythin'," you whispered, whining when he pushed a second finger in.

"So fuckin' good for me," he grit.

"Joel? Joel?"

"What's wrong - "

"No, nothing, I just - I want this, too. I don't want you to stop."

"You don't mean that - "

"Joel, however long you've wanted me is probably almost as long as I've wanted you. Please," you whispered your beg. "I just want to feel you. Give me a bit of life, Joel, baby, please, I just want to feel alive."

Joel sighed your name, and you pushed his hands off to lift onto your hands and twist around. He looked up at you for a moment before reaching up to hook his hand around your neck and pull you forward until your lips collided in a frenzy of lips, teeth, and tongue.

Joel knew kissing you was a bad idea, but he was out of fucks to give at the moment. He wanted this, so, he'd relish in it.

He had you, he finally had you - and he wasn't about to give you up for the fucking world. He sighed before completely submitting himself to your charm; to you.

Knowing he had fucked someone more recently than you, you reached for the outline of his straining member and reacquainted yourself with the feel of a cock - of a hard cock hidden beneath fabric. Joel was right, you were starting to feel that juvenile excitement as if this was your first time again, and how you loved it.

Your lover moaned into your mouth, nearly hissing at the feel of your hand over his hot cock; trying to gulp down the feeling and not bust his load right then and there. "Can I take these off?" Joel asked, toying with your panties.

"Please," you breathed, helping him shed your last layer of decency before hitching your leg up his hip again and exposing your cunt to his wondering hands. Your moan was broken and whimpered when he pushed two fingers in again, letting go of him for a moment before latching onto his arm when Joel increased the speed of him tempo.

You begged his name for reprieve, but there was no mercy to be found in Joel's actions. You whimpered and shoved your face in his neck, unconsciously humping into his ministrations as Joel slowed himself into sweeping motions to search for you G-spot. You couldn't remember the last time you had such a diligent love, most simply thinking the clit was enough - and while it was with a vibrator, it wasn't if your sexual partner didn't know where the fucking clit was!

However, Joel proved he was well-versed in how to please a woman, and while he wasn't a regular Casanova, he was determined to bring you to your peak. "There, there," you jolted when his finger pad found that spongy-good spot inside your inner walls that, when stimulated, had you seeing stars. "Oh, my God, yes, yes, fuuuck yes," you whimpered, needing to open your mouth to latch onto his shoulder as your climax reared its white-hot head.

"C'mon, darlin', lemme feel you," Joel muttered, his Southern accent coming out into play more as he reached for your clit at the same time. The combined efforts had you ready to cry. "I know you're there, c'mon, c'mon, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers, c'mon - yeah, like that, good fuckin' girl, there it is," he coached, watching you closely as you briefly forgot to breathe.

You would've been ashamed of the moan you let out if anyone else was around, and if the storm didn't drown you out; Joel praising you for doing 'so good' for him as he stared down to watch you twitch and cum - coating his hand.

You didn't usually squirt unless your G-spot was hit, and Joel seemed mesmerized by the messy action as well as the sight. It made him feel both prideful and primal to see himself splattered with your juices. However, it wasn't enough to distract Joel for long - who didn't let up. He kept you going by never removing his fingers, and instead, watched as he coaxed you through your epic ride. "That was better than I imagined, baby," Joel admitted quietly.

"You might change your mind before the sun comes up."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. I wanna be on top."

Joel paused for a moment, blinking at you, then decided, "Maybe for one of the rounds - but the first one, I'll be the one fucking you."

With a growing smirk, you taunted, "Bring it on, cowboy."

author isn't very confident writing NSFW, but hey, practice makes perfect, right?

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller drabble #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

In the Cold, Cold Night, Chapter Two:

pairing: cowboy/frontier!joel miller x oc (Dorothea) / unrequited tommy miller

rating: E (18+ only, western stuff, innocence kink if you squint? more just period-realistic virginity vibes from dorothea, buckle riding (i had to), secret relationship, talks of religion/sinning)

wc: 3.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

What started out as an exciting morning—the thought of heading over to Joel’s house giving Dorothea a pep in her step—quickly dwindled into something more busy than she hoped.

After having to spend the morning tending to Robert and Paul’s hangover at the request of her father, the two young men going out of their way to take advantage of her obedience by demanding a special breakfast, she was sent out into the yard to supervise her youngest brothers, Bo, Ed, and James, as they cleaned and refilled every single trough they had as a punishment for skipping church the sunday prior. Dorothea didn’t have to do much but sit, the momentary break giving her a chance to catch up on her latest knitting project—a blanket for a childhood friend's newborn.

The last nail in the coffin was her mother’s request to join her at the church for her prayer group meeting—though, it was less of a request and more of an obligation given how devout her mother was.

She sat in that tiny, sweltering hot church with a hand fan batting air at her face, her eyes shut as the women around her seemingly prayed for every single person in town, her mind lost in sinful thought about what occurred in Joel’s kitchen the night before. It wasn’t until the pretty, young, school teacher took her turn praying that she actually listened, the sound of Joel’s name slipping from her lips piquing her interest.

“Dear lord,” she started, her voice honey sweet. “I wanna pray for a young man and his daughter, Joel and Sarah, that just moved into town. I pray that you give him the means to lead her in your path, lord. Pray you protect ‘em. Amen.”

Though any good Christian woman would’ve said an “amen” before moving on to whatever the next person was praying about, Dorothea was occupied with jealousy, her stomach turning sour at the thought of some pretty, red-haired young woman caring so much for Joel that she talked to God about him.

Did they know each other well? Did Joel lay the same moves on this pretty school teacher that he did on her? Why did it matter?

Her mind ran miles in the time it took for the meeting to end, each of the women filing out of the church-house and into the dry heat.

“Alright, let’s go on home and get supper started,” Jessa said, looping her arm with her daughter’s. “Know it ain’t good to gossip, but…ya hear that teacher lady? Prayin’ like a saint.”

“Yep,” Dorothea nodded.

“Ain’t that that boy y’like? Joel?” she asked.

“Never said I liked’m,” she said.

“Right,” Jessa smirked. “Regardless, I’ll see what gossip I can get outta the ladies at church. See if maybe his boots’ve found a home under her bed.”

“Mama,” she scolded in a gasp, shaking her head as they continued down the road.

“Alright, I’ll quit,” she said, patting her daughter's hand. “Must be cute. Got all these pretty ladies fawnin’ over him.”

“Mama, you said you’d quit,” Dorothea recalled with a flat tone.

“Alright, I’m done for good,” she promised with a smirk. “For now.”

It was late in the afternoon by the time they got home and started out on dinner, just some cornbread, mashed potatoes, and chicken.

While Robert and Paul were back off to the saloon, the younger boys stayed home—James and Ed playing out back with Sarah who’d come by sometime while Dorothea and Jessa were gone, and Bo who stayed to help his mother and sister with supper.

“Who’s ‘at out front?” John Mackey walked into the kitchen where Bo, Dorothea, and Jessa were sitting at the table peeling and chopping up potatoes.

“Who?” Jessa asked, her brows lacing as she leaned over to look out of the dusty window, the silhouette of a grown man dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt catching her eye. “Oh, that must be Sarah’s daddy.”

“Is it?” Dorothea sprung up from her chair and walked over to the window, practically pressing her nose to the glass to get a good look at him in all his sweaty glory.

“Bo, go on out back and call Sarah in,” Jessa ordered.

“Dot, go on and invite ‘em in for a cup ‘a water. Swelterin’ out there,” John added, taking his seat at the table.

“Yes sir,” she nodded, biting her lip as she practically ran out of the house, the screen door whacking the wooden frame behind her as she jogged down the steps of the porch. “You here for Sarah?”

“One ‘a the reasons,” he smiled, meeting her halfway between the fence and the porch. He stopped just short of touching her, his eyes meeting hers before traveling down her frame. “Lookin’ awfully pretty today.”

“Must’a known you were comin’ by,” she smirked. “Sorry I couldn’t sneak out today.”

“S’alright, got caught up with workin’ anyways,” he shrugged, squinting at the sun behind her.

“I could…sneak out later,” she shrugged, lifting her hand to ghost over his chest before deciding against it. “After dark.”

“Sounds risky,” he smiled, reaching forward to loop his pointer finger with hers. “Don’t want your daddy showin’ up on my doorstep with a shotgun.”

“He won’t know,” she assured. “Sleeps like a rock after supper.”

“I’d have to come get ya,” he said. “Ain’t safe to be walkin’ around after dark by yourself.”

“You gonna take me ridin’ on that pretty horse you got?” she purred.

“I could,” he nodded, his eyes falling to her lips, the pink hue calling his name. He shook his head at her affect on him and took a necessary step back. “Am I blushin’?”

“Just a little,” she chuckled before remembering why she came outside in the first place. “My, uh, my daddy wanted me to invite you in for some water.”

“That’s awfully kind of him,” he replied, looking over her shoulder at his daughter as she stepped through the front door. “I’ll have to take him up another time, got supper goin’ back home.”

“But tonight?” she asked, trying not to look too hopeful.

“I’ll be here waitin’ if y’want me to,” he assured.

“I want you to,” she affirmed, clasping her hand with his and squeezing it before letting it go, Sarah’s boots crunching on the dirt behind her pulling her away from him.

“Hi, daddy,” she smiled, hugging her father’s hip. “Time for supper?”

“Yep,” he nodded, turning his eyes back to Dorothea. “I’ll see ya, ma’am.”

She smiled smittenly at him as he tipped his hat at her before turning to walk Sarah to his horse that was tied up on the fence post. She admired the pull of his shirt across his back as he hoisted the little girl up onto the saddle before climbing up himself and trotting off down the road.

“Where you off to?” Tommy asked from the sofa as Joel tried to sneak out of the house around midnight.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Joel asked, shifting his weight to one hip as he stayed standing right by the front door. “Drunk?”

“Not tonight,” he said, somewhat forlorn. “Just thinkin’…’bout that Dorothea.”

“What about her?” Joel asked, hoping that he wasn’t giving anything away with his soft scowl.

“I like her,” he said. “She’s quick, pretty, soft. Kinda woman ya settle down with.”

“Mm,” Joel grunted, nodding his head.

“Just thinkin’ ‘bout whether m’ready to settle down,” Tommy continued.

“You’re young,” Joel said, shrugging his shoulders. “Be young.”

“You’re always naggin’ at me to settle down, now y’want me to be young?” Tommy chuckled. “No pleasin’ you.”

“I just ain’t sure you’re ready t’give it all up yet,” he reasoned. “No need to go breakin’ any hearts until ya know for certain.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Tommy nodded, a soft, tired smile on his face. “Where y’goin’?”

Joel turned sheepish.

“Is Joel Miller goin’ to see a woman?” Tommy teased. “Bordello?”

Joel only grunted, considering it less than a lie.

“Well, good on you,” Tommy nodded. “Need me t'stay up?”

“Just watch Sarah,” he said, walking back to the front door. “No drinkin’.”

“No drinkin’,” Tommy agreed, gesturing at the door. “Now go on. Lord knows y’need it.”

Joel offered up a smile and nodded before grabbing his hat off the hook and heading outside. The moon was high in the sky, the stars shimmering like diamonds above him as he walked to the small stable and walked his horse, Callus, out, saddling it up before climbing on and trotting off down the long, lonely road with his pistol on his hip for safe keeping.

When he pulled up to Dorothea’s house, he spotted a shadow sitting on the front porch with a lantern. Pulling the reins, he got Callus to stop and waited as the shadow stood up and ran down the dirt path to the gate.

“Took ya long enough,” Dorothea said, handing him her lantern as she climbed onto Callus behind him, her arms wrapping around his middle as he hung the light from the saddlebag.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he said, turning his head to glance back at her with a smile. “Y’ready for an adventure?”

“Y’takin’ me somewhere special?” she asked, giving him a squeeze.

“Yep,” he nodded and turned his eyes forward, clicking to get Callus to turn around and trot off in the direction he came from.

“Where we goin’?”

“S’a surprise,” he said, moving one hand from the reins to rest over hers on his stomach.

“What if I don’t like surprises,” she smiled, resting her cheek on his shoulder blade.

“Well, guess ya ain’t gonna like it, then,” he drawled, lacing her fingers with his. “What’d you get up to today?”

Dorothea sighed and shook her head. “Too much.”

“We got time,” he smiled.

“Just a lot of housework,” she shrugged. “Takin’ care ‘a my drunk brothers.”

“Your daddy don’t care what they do?”

“Don’t seem like it,” she said. “Bet I’ll have t’nurse ‘em back to health tomorrow, too.”

“What’d ya do after that?”

“Went with my mama to the church.”

“Didn’t know you were the holy type,” he teased.

“I ain’t,” she replied, splaying her hand across his lower stomach. “But my mama is, and I love her, so…off to prayer I go.”

“What’d ya pray about?”

“You’re awfully chatty tonight,” she teased.

“Would’ya like me to shut up?”

“No,” she hummed, closing her eyes as the warm breeze brushed her face. “Not yet, at least.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “You gonna answer, then?”

“I didn’t pray,” she said. “My mind was…other places.”

“Like where?”

“Like back in your kitchen.”

“Not sure God would approve of those thoughts,” he said, turning to glance down at her hand inching dangerously close to his lap.

“You know that school teacher?” she asked, lifting her head up to stare at the back of his neck. “The young one?”

“I met her a few times,” he said. “She teaches Sarah.”

“Well…you’re in her prayers,” she mumbled, still sickened with jealousy.

“Ain’t that nice ‘a her,” he smiled, picking up on the dryness in her tone. “She ain’t in mine.”

“You pray?” Dorothea quirked an eyebrow at the back of his head.

“Not much,” he said. “‘N only ‘bout the things that matter.”

“Well then, you must matter t'her,” she said. “Any reason?”

“If you’re tryin’ to ask somethin’, darlin’, I ain’t pickin’ up on it.”

“Mmhm,” she rolled her eyes and smiled at his playful ignorance. “Wouldn’t blame ya. She’s a pretty woman.”

“I’ve seen prettier,” he said.

“Like who?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head.

“Now who’s playin’ dumb,” he smiled. “Y’know you’re the prettiest damn thing within a thousand miles of here. Maybe more."

"Maybe?" she repeated. "Why's it a maybe?

"Ain't seen that much ‘a the world yet.”

“Guess I’ll take it, then,” she grinned, nuzzling back into the warmth of his back. “You're pretty, too. In a…rough kinda way.”

“Well, ain’t you sweet,” he chided, squeezing her hand.

“Meant it,” she said.

“Guess I’ll take it,” he echoed.

Joel and Dorothea rode out for an hour, the town fading behind them as they wandered through the Texan plains and desert. Callus seemed to know exactly where they were heading off to, Joel's hands hardly doing any steering as the horse trotted down a ditch and then back up. Dorothea watched as a sparse line of trees came into view, their once-green leaves yellow dying under the blazing sun.

Soon, the sight of a riverbank just past the trees caught Dorothea’s eyes as Joel got Callus to stop. He felt her hop down off the horse before he climbed off himself, watching her as she started off towards the trees. Her feet were quick as she wandered through the tall, dry grass to the glimmer of water just a few yards away, her head turning back to grin at Joel.

“This your surprise for me?” she asked, kicking her boots off once she reached the soft, wet, and darker dirt by the water, her dress scrunched in her hands to lift the hem as she leaned a foot out to kick the water, testing the temperature.

“You like it?” Joel asked, grunting softly as he sat down on the cool ground, his knees hugged close to his chest by his strong arms.

Dorothea turned around and smiled brightly, nodding her head as she walked over to sit beside him. “S’real nice.” A comfortable silence fell over them for a few beats, Dorothea’s eyes swept up in this small oasis just outside her town limits, it’s sparse but flourishing trees, the shimmer of the water, the starlight overhead. “Y’know…I don’t think I’ve been this far from home in—actually, I’ve never been this far from home.”

“How’s it feel?” he asked, brushing his shoulder against hers, his eyes fixed on her profile as she gazed up at the stars.

“Feels nice,” she whispered back, her demeanor turned gentle as awe took hold of her. “I haven’t looked up at the stars ‘n a long time. Silly. They’re right there, every night, all ya gotta do is look up, but…I never do.”

“Y’should,” he said, reluctantly turning his eyes away from her and up at the stars twinkling overhead in the pitch black sky.

“D’you?” she asked, turning to look at him, watching him nod thoughtfully.

“Most nights,” he replied. “Sometimes I get worn out ‘fore they come out, but if I’m up…I like t’go out ‘n watch ‘em. Puts everythin’ into perspective.”

“D’ya know anythin’ about ‘em?” she asked, drawing his eyes to hers.

“Like what?” he chuckled.

“Like…their names…n’things like that.”

“No,” his amusement faded into a sweet smile, his head shaking softly. “Don’t know any names or nothin’.”

She frowned slightly and nodded, turning to look back up at them for a minute before lifting her finger to point one out.

“That one,” she said, drawing Joel’s attention, his eyes following the line of her arm to the tip of her finger. “That pink lookin’ one…she’s Betty.”

“S’that right?” he chuckled, his heart swelling with endearment.

“Yeah—Betty,” she nodded.

Joel took his time to scan the sky for a star of his own, his finger lifting to point at a bright blue speck.

“He can be Butch,” Joel said, giving her a smile.

“Betty and Butch,” she agreed, turning to meet his eyes, their mouths just a few inches apart.

Joel’s eyes wandered first, studying the soft plushness of the lips he’d tasted the night prior.

“Y’gonna kiss me again?” she whispered, a smug smile on her face.

“Just admirin’,” he said, flickering his eyes back to hers. “‘Less you want me to.”

Dorothea bit her lip as she stayed smiling at him, not willing to break contact first. Instead, she kept her eyes glued to his as she sat up and hiked up the skirt of her dress, Joel instinctively dropping his knees to guide her as she tossed her leg over his lap to straddle it. His hands rested on her waist, his eyes locked on hers as his lips parted in awe at the sight of her moonlit form on top of him.

“I want you t’do more than kiss me,” she said, draping her arms around his shoulders and rocking experimentally against his belt buckle. Joel let out a soft groan as his eyes fell to his lap, his hands bunching up the hem of her dress until he could see her work against him, bare and wet.

“Jesus,” he swore, his eyes shooting up to meet hers as she let out a soft moan, her head tipping back. “Feel good?”

“Feels—like heaven,” she moaned, lifting her head up to look at him through scrunched brows and lidded eyes, her hips continuing their shaky rock back and forth. Joel’s hands dropped her dress to fit on either side of her face, pulling her down to meet his lips, her moans flowing straight into his open mouth as he swiped his tongue over hers.

“Just like ‘at,” he whispered. “Keep goin’.”

“Feels so good,” she whined, her thighs trembling. “Feels like…I don’t know.”

“Just keep goin’,” he cooed. “S’gonna feel good.”

Dorothea’s head fell into the crook of his neck as she inched closer to a euphoria she had no idea even existed, her moans joining the crickets chirping in the background.

“Joel—“

“C’mon, darlin’,” he rasped softly in her ear, his hands gripping the globes of her ass through the cotton of her dress, guiding her hips against the cool metal buckle as they grew unsteady. “C’mon.”

“Oh,” she drew in a sharp gasp and held it as she seized up with her climax, the warmth and pleasure shooting through every nerve in her body causing her to cling to Joel for grounding. “Jesus—felt so good.”

Joel smiled, kissing her temple until she lifted her head up to look at him with a lazy, sated grin.

“That was fun,” she said. “S’it always like that?”

“Should be,” he smiled, his chest practically puffing with pride as he lifted a hand up to her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her smile. “So damn beautiful.”

Dorothea leaned in, brushing the tip of her nose against his before pecking him softly.

“Makin’ me crazy,” Joel added in a mumble against her lips. “All I think about.”

“S’that true?” she asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled, nodding at her.

“Glad I ain’t the only one, then,” she grinned, kissing his cheek. “What can I do t’make you feel that good?”

Joel sighed, the strain against his jeans aching, but there wasn’t time for him tonight.

“Need t’get ya back home,” he said.

Dorothea frowned and nodded, dropping her eyes to his lap.

“I wanna, though,” she said. “Another time. Wanna learn how t’make you feel good.”

Joel’s cock twitched at her request.

“Promise,” she said. “Next time we get a chance…promise you’ll teach me.”

“I promise,” he nodded, his voice a breathy rasp. “God, you’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’. Let’s go ‘fore I get us into trouble.”

“Can’t have that,” she chuckled, standing up and offering him her hand as if he needed it. Joel took it anyways, just barely letting her pull to help him off the ground, his hands dusting the back of his jeans off.

“Your carriage awaits n’ all that,” Joel said, nudging his chin towards the horse.

“That make you my knight in shinin’ armor?” she teased as she walked over to her boots, slipping them back on her dirty feet before stomping through the grass back to Callus.

“Guess so,” he smiled to himself as he followed her. “Long as you're the princess.”

“Hm,” she turned to face him as she reached Callus, waiting for his help in climbing on. “Never saw myself as much of a princess.”

“Never saw myself as much of a knight ‘n shinin’ armor,” he countered. “Yet here I am, helpin’ you onto the horse even though I know y’know how t’do it your damned self.”

“Maybe I am a princess, then,” she said, earning a chuckle.

“Maybe I’m a knight.”

Joel lingered longer than he probably should’ve, Dorothea’s lips causing him to lose track of time as they stood in front of her farm, her hands tangled in his hair, his gripping onto the fabric covering her waist.

“Need’a go inside,” he mumbled against her jaw as his lips trailed down to her pulse.

“Then let me go,” she said, smiling up at the sky as Joel only held her tighter.

“Can’t,” he rasped close to her ear. “Taste too good.”

“Joel,” she moaned, guiding his lips back to hers. “I wanna taste you, too.”

“Mm,” he groaned into their kiss, his hand smoothing down her back to cup her ass. “Tomorrow.”

“Got bible study t’morrow night,” she said, watching him as he pulled back to look at her through lust-darkened eyes, his lips bowed and parted.

“After,” he said, smiling sinfully. “Give ya somethin’ to repent for.”

“You gonna take me straight t’hell, ain’t ya?” she smirked, wiping the shine off the plump of his bottom lip. “Alright. T’morrow.”

“Go on inside ‘fore your daddy comes out with a pistol,” he smiled, patting her hip as she started to head past the fence. “Have a goodnight, Dot.”

Dorothea smiled at the nickname, turning around to walk backwards, her hand lifting to her lips to blow him a kiss. “Y’too, Joel.”

Neither one of them got much of any sleep that night, and yet neither cared. They’d never sleep again if it meant sharing their nights together, under the dark veil of the night sky, the stars dancing above them, their bodies and minds intertwined.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #itccn

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springysprongy · 1 year

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Note book art

#miles art #dsaf #day shift at freddy's #dsaf dave #dave miller #dsaf jack #jack kennedy #ocs #PinkBun oc #I just made her idk what she is #but thats the name im giving them #miles shitty doodles

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chaoticlicense · 1 year

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The progression of Skye (my Avatar OC) getting fed up with Miles’ bullshit (or Lyle’s depending on the AU 🤣)

#chaotic OCs #OCs #avatar 2009 #avatar james cameron #avatar OC #avatar the way of water #miles quaritch #lyle wainfleet #miles quaritch x oc #Lyle Wainfleet x oc #oc x canon #picrew #oc skye miller #skye miller

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part ten

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

your reunion comes with a price.

a/n: can’t stop won’t stop part today part tomorrow we are AMMMMMMMPED people. and this is the first official chapter with the use of Liv’s name! she will still be as nondescript as possible for now (this plot is ever-evolving) with sparse use of her name. but like I said in the announcement, if named OCs are not your thing, there’s no hard feelings here! also a bit of Joel x Tess starting in this part - I do want to say that there is ZERO hate on my end for their relationship, I love what they did/are doing in the show, but for the sake of the plot, they are not as established in this fic.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, some questionable choices, drinking, Joel has a lot of feelings and doesn’t know how to express them.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters✨

He can’t stop pacing.

His gut has been knotted with worry since Tommy disappeared into around the bend in the road. Tess has been watching him every since, from her spot perched atop a long defrosted freezer. She’s got her knees pulled up, legs bowed, arms wrapped around. Some kind of comfortable, he supposes.

Joel’s back hurts. It always has, and the end of the world certainly hasn’t put a stop to it. He rubs at his shoulder as he paces, fingers digging into his muscle. The gun holstered at his thigh feels heavier than normal, the knife on his belt even more so.

The gas station is a few miles out of the city. It made the most sense, stopping here for now. It was decent shelter, empty of Infected, good sight lines. The luckiest they’d been in a long time. Luckier still when they found a mostly-intact map of the state buried under a stack of cardboard inside the station’s store. Tommy was sure of the path, and while Joel was loathe to let his brother leave, he knew it was the best play. But that hasn’t stopped him from pacing the floor so long he’s actually worn the tiles clean.

“Would you sit down or something?” Tess quips, her voice exasperated. “You’re making me fucking nervous, pacing like that.”

He gives her a hard look, but relents, heads for one of the windows dotting front of the store. He crosses his arms over his chest, stares through the grimy glass.

They found Tess just outside of Kentucky, nearly three years back. Her and her husband, Nate, were just trying to make their way, same as Joel and Tommy. After a close call with a horde of Infected, they’d joined up, more convinced that strength was in numbers than anything else.

Tess is strong, capable. She’s proved herself a hundred times over, by now, saved both Joel and Tommy’s lives more than Joel cares to count. He doesn’t like feeling like he owes anybody anything, but with her, it’s different.

And after Nate turned, it got…different, again.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. She worked through her grief quietly, all too similar to himself. The name came up, and she shot it down. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Miller.”

Joel’s still holding onto you, in a way. It’s a spark that never truly goes out, a prick of warmth in his chest that he knows he has to keep small. It would burn its way straight through him if he let it get any bigger. He just…hopes you’re alive. That’s all he can allow himself to do.

But Tess, with her brash tone and her slim tolerance for bullshit, he can see the similarities, between you two. His mind wonders if you’d be friends, given the chance, and he has to force the thought from his head. There’s no guarantee you’re still in Boston, still breathing. There are not guarantees at all.

With Tess, it’s stress relief. He knows that. She knows that. The ground rules were laid out right from the first time. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did, and…it felt good. A small comfort in a world that was still hellbent on ending him.

A small comfort. A small spark. That’s all he’ll allow himself.

That’s all he can live with.

“Joel’s alive.”

Your boots squeak on the kitchen floor. You stare at Tommy, open-mouthed, gaping like a damn fish.

“He’s…alive.” The truth tastes funny on your tongue. You say it again. “Joel’s alive.”

Tommy nods, and you pull him back against you, hugging him a second time, a nearly shouted oh my god falling from your lips as you collide again. He laughs, the sound like music to your ears, hugging you tighter still. “So are you, Liv,” he says, his voice low in your ear, cracking on your name, and you pull back again.

“Where is he?” you ask, gripping his shoulders. “Where have you been? How long, since you left Austin? Is Sarah with Joel? What’s…” The questions keep pouring out of you, something triggered in the back of your brain. You need to know everything; where they’ve been, what they’ve been doing, how they stayed alive all these years. You need to know.

Tommy lets go of you just enough to take your hand, but before he can get a word out, Deanna speaks. “Maybe you two should go downstairs,” she says, putting a soft hand on your shoulder. “Kiddos should get to bed soon, y’all should have your privacy.”

You nod, and Tommy follows suit. “Thank you, Deanna,” he says, catching her hand before she can walk away. “For everything.”

She smiles at him. “You’re welcome, Tommy.” Her eyes slide to you. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You just nod again, the questions still stalled on your tongue. Tommy follows you out of Deanna’s apartment, down the hallway to the stairs. You only hit the first landing before you can’t hold your tongue any longer. “How did you find me?”

“I asked around at the clinic, after I got through the gate,” he says, keeping pace with you as you head down the next flight of stairs. “Didn’t think FEDRA soldiers was a good place to start. The first nurse had no idea what I was on about, but another heard me say your name and pointed me in Deanna’s direction. Took a bit of interrogating at the business end of a shotgun to convince her I really knew you, but she warmed up to me in the end.”

“Shotgun?” you balk. You’ve told her a million times not to keep the thing around, in case FEDRA ever came knocking. (Pot calling the kettle black, you’re well aware…) But she’s insisted on keeping it strapped beneath the kitchen table ever since the mall. “That woman, I swear.”

“She had nothing but nice things to say about you,” he informs you, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your mouth as you hit the second landing, pushing the door open that leads to the hallway. “Sounds like you’ve been making quite the living.”

“Doing what I can,” you reply, fishing your keys out of your pocket. “This is me.” You stop in front of your door, unlock it, push it open. “Not much, but it works.”

Tommy follows you in, shucks off his jacket. You do the same, hiding your bag beneath it on the hook. You point out the bathroom, offer him some water.

“Is this a cup of tea conversation,” you ask, handing him a water bottle, “or a something stronger kind of conversation?”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You have something stronger?”

You tell him to sit, walk into the kitchen and shove the fridge to the side with a heave, revealing the hole you cracked into the drywall, stacked with bottles of liquor. “Pick your poison, Miller.”

He’s gaping at you. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious,” you laugh, pushing a hand through your still-damp hair. “Lots of abandoned houses outside the wall, lots of rich people who left a lot of good shit behind.”

He points to one of the bottles, and you pull it out, set it on the counter, shove the fridge back into place. Mismatched glasses are laid out on the table, filled with two fingers of dark liquor, some barrel-aged whiskey you haven’t even tried yet.

“To you,” Tommy says, raising his glass to you, and your mouth twitches, the soft clink reaching your ears. The first sip burns, and you wince, setting the glass on the table. “Where do I start?”

“At the beginning, ideally,” you quip, and he laughs, draining his glass to nothing and reaching for the bottle.

“May I?”

“‘Course.”

Tommy has been with Joel the whole time. “I was in the truck with him, when he called you that night,” he says, and the memory makes your shoulder prickle. “When the phone cut out, I thought he was gonna put his fist through my damn dashboard.” He chuckles, but there’s no humour in it. “The plan has always been to come to Boston.” His dark eyes flick up to your face. “To find you. Or try to. After—” He stops, cuts himself short, empties his glass again.

“After what?” you prompt, reaching out and laying your hand on Tommy’s forearm. “Tommy, tell me. Please.”

“I was in jail, the night everything went down. Got into some stupid bar fight, didn’t realize until after that the guy was infected; tried to bite the fuckin’ waitress. But I called Joel, and he came to get me. We saw all kinds of weird shit happening in the city, heard weirder shit on the radio, then he called you. We went home, got Sarah, tried to get the hell out of dodge. We got stuck, in the city. Fuckin’ plane fell right out of the sky, crashed my truck.

“We got separated, for a while. I had to circle around, try to meet up with them again, and when I found them, Joel, he…” He trails off, his brow furrowing, eyes going shiny. “Sarah died. That night.” He sets the glass on the table, leans back in his chair. “She hurt her ankle, when the truck crashed, and Joel was carrying her. Found them at the bottom of a hill, fuckin’ soldier with a gun pointed right at Joel. He’d already fired at them and then I…I shot first.”

You plant your elbow on the table, cover your mouth with your hand. There are tears pouring down your cheeks, and you’re still holding Tommy’s arm. He covers your hand with his own.

“Joel was on the ground, hurt but okay, but Sarah, she…” His brow pinches, eyes wet. “Just like that, she was gone, and he…it broke him.”

Slowly, you pull your hand away from your mouth. You refill your glass, toss the entire thing back in one go. It burns like hell, but you barely notice it, wiping the tears from your face. “Tommy, where is he?”

“Gas station, maybe ten clicks outside the city. Cumberland Farms, or something like that.”

“I know it.”

He nods. “The plan was for me to come first, see if they’d let me in, figure out how easy or not it would be to get them in, since…”

“Since what?” you prompt, lifting a brow.

“We got kicked out of the last QZ we were in. Baltimore, before it fell. Tess, she—”

“Who’s Tess?”

He gives you the story; Tess Servopolous, badass extraordinaire, according to Tommy’s description. They’d joined up with her and her husband originally, but he’d been infected, and she’d been the one to put a bullet in him. Smart as hell, apparently with ideals similar to your own; Joel and Tess had been kicked out of Baltimore for smuggling, and the FEDRA soldiers in Baltimore were using exile as punishment. Tommy, refusing to leave his brother, had left of his own accord.

“So it’s just the two of them?” you ask, your brain churning, an idea already starting to form.

Tommy nods. “That’s it.”

You push back your chair, startling Tommy, who catches your arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay here,” you say, ignoring his question, grabbing a different — dry — jacket off the hook. Tommy gives you a hard look, crossing his arms over his chest. “Eat whatever you want, drink whatever you want. The bed’s not half bad.”

“Where are you going?” He gets to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “You just got here. You can’t get caught.”

“And you can?”

“I can get them in, but I have to go talk to someone first.”

“What about the curfew?” he asks. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall; almost an hour past. “Liv, don’t—”

“It’ll be okay, Tommy,” you say, trying to muster up something resembling a smile. “I promise.”

You’re soaked again by the time you’re tapping on Nick’s window, perched precariously on the fire escape outside. McCoy was on the overnight patrol; you’d seen him halfway between your building and Nick’s. The city is dark, night taking hold, curfew emptying the streets and lighting windows, casting shadows onto the pavement.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Nick says by way of hello, sliding the window open. You climb through immediately, shivering violently as the warmth of his apartment covers you. He tries to reach for you, but you step out of his grip, arms crossed over your chest.

“Are you working the gate tomorrow?” you ask, and he just stares at you, one brow raised. When he doesn’t answer right away, you ask again. “Nick, are you working the gate tomorrow?”

He’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “I am…why?”

“I need your help,” you say quickly, your knees knocking together as you shiver again. “I’m bringing two people through the gate tomorrow, and I need you to get them through, no matter what, no questions asked.”

Those blue eyes of his darken. “I can’t do that.”

“You can,” you insist, staring him down. “I know you can. I’ll…I’ll vouch for them, feed them with my own fucking ration cards until they can pull their own weight. They can sleep in my apartment, I don’t care. I just need them inside the QZ. Please.”

For a moment that feels like an hour, he just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, deep lines on his forehead. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter?”

Nick scoffs. “I guess not. But you…why can’t they just go through the gate like everyone else? Doesn’t matter what I do, if they’re infected, they’re not—”

“They’re not infected,” you tell him, cutting him off. “I’m not an idiot. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what…?”

“They were kicked out of Baltimore, before it fell. Which means they’re in the system, which means any other soldier would turn them away on the spot.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “And you want me to just let them through? Why’d they get kicked out of Baltimore?” His expression changes, something like understanding, but you know before the words are out of his mouth that he’s wrong. “What kind of fucked up deal have you made, Liv?”

“I didn’t make a fucking deal,” you say, exasperation creeping into your tone. “I just…I need them inside, Nick. Please. I’ll do whatever you want me to. Throw me in lockup for a week, I don’t fucking care. Just get them inside. Please.”

After a moment, he replies. His face is a hard mask, thick arms crossed over his chest. “Not a week. Two days. You go in the moment they’re through the gate. It’ll have to be official shit, on your record, proof that you were in lockup when they were brought through. I swear to god, if they pull any shit, if anything traces back to—”

“It won’t, Nick,” you say, forcing yourself to relax, reaching out a putting a hand on his arm. “I promise.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “So says the smuggler.”

You crack a smile. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” he nods, almost rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll do it. You owe me. And you know I can’t protect you in lockup.”

“I know.”

You know you shouldn’t do it; in fact, everything in you screams in the opposite direction. But when he reaches out, grabs the zipper of your coat and hauls you close, you kiss him. It lingers, the feeling of his hands moving to your waist all too familiar, but the entire time, your mind is whirling.

Joel is alive.

You’re gone, as soon as the sun’s up.

Nick’s awake, pulling on his gear, as you’re doing the same, nursing the cup of good coffee he’d pushed into your hands almost the second you opened your eyes. You tried to wave it off, but he wouldn’t let you. “Drink it.”

You sink onto the edge of his bed as you tie up your boots. He’s watching you, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, tightening his belt.

“How long will you be?”

“Five hours, maybe longer.” You get to your feet. “It’s a long trek.”

His brow twitches. “I don’t like this.” Nick steps towards you, and that little voice in you, the one that had screamed when he first kissed you last night, almost has you flinching away. He reaches out, swipes his thumb over your cheek, down and over your chin. “At least tell me who they are.”

“Does it matter?” you ask, echoing yourself from last night. “They’re survivors. They deserve a safe place, right?”

He drops his hand, crosses his arms over his chest. “Right.”

“I’ll bring them through the alley,” you tell him. “Same as yesterday. Then through the empty warehouse and to the gate.”

Nick just nods.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, grabbing your jacket, and you’re gone.

You take the same path you’d used the day before, stopping at one of your caches to grab the bat from where you’d stashed it, a backpack with supplies. Your adventuring gear.

Ten miles feels like twenty. The caffeine gives you a bit more pep in your step, and you’ve always travelled faster on your own, but you haven’t felt this antsy since outbreak day. Your heart hammers with every step, the bat a heavy weight at your back, hands curled around the straps of your backpack.

Joel is alive.

It pushes your feet faster, but makes the guilt rise in your stomach just as quick. You shouldn’t have let Nick take you to bed, shouldn’t be asking him for something like this, but there’s no one else you can ask. No one else you trust.

The Joel you find now might be a completely different one. Tommy’s words ring out in your ears, when he’d told you about Sarah, about what happened that night.

“It broke him.”

Part of you has been broken since you left Austin. Maybe there’s a glimmer of hope somewhere in here, maybe you can put each other back together, live, survive.

Maybe.

The guilt simmers thickly. You should have told Nick who it was, who you wanted brought inside. But would his answer have been the same, if you admitted it? He’s pressed a bit, over the years, asking for tidbits of your past, trying to muddle your story together. You’ve stayed tight-lipped with him, but Deanna knows exactly how much gin to give you to loosen your lips, and you have no doubt she’s passed some information along. Not that you can blame her; she loves you both, and she’s still not sold on what you’re doing with Nick.

“You’re gonna get that boy killed one of these days,” she said one night. A job went slightly awry and you came back with a black eye, the bat caked in Infected blood, Nick half carrying you up the stairs to Deanna’s place. “You can’t keep getting him involved.”

“I know.”

You did. You do. But life is about resources, now. It’s who you know, what you have, what information you can use against someone if you need to. It’s a lethal combination, in every sense, and that’s just behind the walls, never mind what lies beyond.

You know you shouldn’t use Nick. You know you’re just going to hurt him, at the end of the day, but it was never supposed to go this far. You know he feels more than you do, and part of you still wants to feel what he feels, to give him something in return for all these years but—

Joel is alive.

Broken or not, that changes everything.

As soon as Tommy said Cumberland Farms, you knew exactly where you were going. It’s a halfway point, of sorts. You’ve done a handful of deals there, have some supplies stashed beneath the tiles. It’s long deserted, looted to shit and half boarded up, but there’s usually something interesting lurking around.

But you’re definitely not expecting what you find.

There’s a truck at one of the gas pumps, the hood popped and the battery long gone. The door is cracked open, and when you get a little closer, you see them, standing in the window.

The woman — who you assume must be Tess — stands with her back to you, light-brown hair visible through the glass. There’s an arm slung around her waist, a hand fisted in the back of her jacket, and everything in you goes still.

Joel.

He’s standing in front of her, saying something, his lips forming words you can’t discern. Your mind is blank, taking in every detail you can, rebuilding the picture of him in your mind, a combination of your memory and your vision, the differences sussing themselves out.

He looks older. There’s a bit more grey in his beard than you remember, the lines on his forehead deeper. A ratty, camel-coloured jacket, a few buttons on the flannel he’s wearing undone. Tess puts her hand on his chest, his bare skin, and when she leans in, your heart drops into your stomach, knees nearly dropping out from under you.

They’re together.

Thanks for the fucking warning, Tommy.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, tightening your grip on the bat, breathing slowly. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s alive.

Then Joel’s eyes flick up, staring straight through the glass. Straight at you.

You see it, on his lips.

“Liv?”

You’re frozen in place. The world has melted away completely. The bat falls out of your hands, the metal singing as it bounces off the pavement. He disappears from the window, Tess turning to see what he saw, and a moment later, he’s bounding through the door, bee-lining for you, nearly sprinting across the lot to where you’re standing. He’s saying your name like a prayer, over and over and over again.

He grabs you so hard your boots slide on the asphalt. The breath is knocked from your lungs, something hot and desperate making a home in your belly as he pulls you into him. You go willingly, throwing your arms around his middle as he wraps his around your shoulders. He’s solid against you, heartbeat hammering against your chest, as quick as your own. The scent of him is slightly different, more earthy, almost darker, but it’s still Joel.

He pulls back after a moment, holding you at arm’s length, one hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes raking over every inch of you. “You’re alive,” he breathes out, a surprised laugh in his tone, and you just nod, the words refusing to leap off your tongue. Joel hugs you back against him. “You’re alive.”

You just nod, tears filling your eyes, holding him close, holding the back of his jacket in an iron grip. Please don’t make me let go, please don’t make me let go, please don’t make me—

Joel pulls back again, his brow pinched, confusion in his eyes. “How did you—”

“Tommy,” you answer quickly, moving your grip to his bicep as his grip your shoulders. “He’s in Boston, in the QZ. I left him at my place; I didn’t wanna take any chances.”

“He made it?” Joel asks, and you nod.

“Joel,” you say, your voice low, feeling a tear slip down your cheek as you say it. God, his name feels strange on your tongue. When was the last time you said it out loud? You squeeze his arm. “Tommy told me…” You pause, breathe deep. “About Sarah. Joel, I’m so sorry, I just—”

You regret the words, the second they’re out of your mouth.

It’s like a flip has been switched. He drops his hands, and his expression goes with them. You watch the mask fall into place, hard and unreadable, shutting you out in an instant. There’s suddenly three feet of space between you, and he turns away as Tess walks out of the gas station, calling his name.

“What’s going on?” she asks, confusion on her face, coming to a stop beside Joel. She juts her chin towards you. “Who’s this?”

“She’s…” Joel starts, but loses the words. He looks at you again, something you barely recognize in his eyes. Again, he turns away, hands on his hips, his back to you.

“I’m Liv,” you offer, holding your hand towards Tess. She stares at it for a second before taking it. “You must be Tess.”

“I am.”

“Tommy sent me,” you say, and that seems to soften her slightly. She’s pretty; big green eyes, pouty lips, tall, and she looks every bit the badass Tommy had described. “I’m an old friend.”

Her gaze slides to Joel, who has distanced himself further, putting even more space between you. Tess, thankfully, doesn’t do the same. “I gathered that.”

You push your tongue against your teeth, resisting the urge to yell at Joel. Why did you have to say it? Why couldn’t you have waited, maybe? At least got them into the QZ before you shattered whatever was still tethering you two together.

“How do you know each other?” Tess asks.

You search for the words. Do you give the truth, right off the bat? Has Joel ever mentioned you to her? Why did you have to say it? “It’s a long story,” you finally manage, eyes snagging on Joel’s back. The guilt you’d already felt over Nick has tripled, a solid lead weight in your stomach. “Doesn’t matter. We should get going.” Tess opens her mouth to protest, but you hold up a hand. “Tommy told me about Baltimore. It’s fine, I took care of it; you’ll get in, no problem.”

Joel whirls then, his eyes bright, jaw set. He’s angry. You almost flinch. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly, your brows pulling down. Some fucking reunion. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What did you—” he starts again, taking another step, but Tess’s hand flashes out, smacking him in the chest, and he freezes.

“Relax, would you?” she nearly sneers, and you raise a brow. “She’s helping us.”

Joel stares at you. Long and hard, those dark eyes impossibly darker, making a chill snake down your spine. You barely recognize him. It doesn’t matter, you try to convince yourself, bending to pick up the bat. He’s alive, that’s all that matters. You knew things wouldn’t be the same. Things couldn’t be the same.

You look away from him, feeling his gaze follow you as you turn on your heel, heading back towards the road.

“Let’s go.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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sunkendreams · 9 months

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𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 . . .

smut, smut and fluff, gore & violence, darker subject matters, porn with plot, porn without plot, female reader, afab reader, dubious consent, somnophilia, size differences, choking, breeding kink, pet names, experienced reader, inexperienced reader, dom/sub dynamics, predator/prey, capture/captive, bondage, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, monsterfucking, legal age gaps, bloodplay, knifeplay, threesomes, poly!relationships, voyeurism, etc . . .

𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 . . .

non-con, pregnancy, necrophilia, only fluff, only slice-of-life, male reader, original characters, incest, age play, little play, watersports, sexual abuse, self-harm, domestic abuse, racism, homophobia, any harmful kinks/fetishes.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 & 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐒.

❛ ━━━━━━━━ ❁ ━━━━━━━━━ ❜

𝟎𝟎𝟎. 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒.

michael myers ( 2018 )

michael myers ( rz!version )

corey cunningham

the lost boys + michael emerson

thomas b. hewitt ( tcm remake )

brahms heelshire

jason voorhees

bo sinclair

vincent sinclair

lester sinclair

billy loomis

stu macher

mickey altieri

richie kirsch

amber freeman

ethan landry

albert shaw / the grabber

eric newlon / john carver

dominic craven

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒.

jim hopper

001 / henry creel

eddie munson

steve harrington

𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋.

dean winchester

sam winchester

castiel

lucifer

gabriel

𝟎𝟎𝟑. 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒.

alcina dimitrescu — (resident evil)

karl heisenberg — (resident evil)

salvatore moreau — (resident evil)

leon kennedy — (resident evil)

eddie gluskin — (outlast)

miles upshur / the walrider — (outlast)

chris walker — (outlast)

joshua washington — (until dawn)

joel miller — (the last of us + show)

tommy miller — (the last of us + show)

𝟎𝟎𝟒. 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒.

arvin eugene russell — (the devil all the time)

eric draven — (the crow)

v — (v for vendetta)

hellboy — (hellboy films)

prince nuada — (hellboy films)

jackson rippner — (red eye)

jonathan crane / scarecrow — (nolanverse)

dani ardor — (midsommar)

father paul hill — (midnight mass)

tiffany valentine — (chucky)

william afton — (fnaf movie)

michael schmidt — (fnaf movie)

rick grimes — (the walking dead)

𝟎𝟎𝟓. 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒.

rasvan benedikte eleazar / count dracula — (coming soon!)

joaquin jackson — (coming soon!)

ghostface oc — (coming soon!)

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #michael myers x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #house of wax #the lost boys x you #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys

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melswifeasf · 1 year

Text

Safest in your arms pt 4

previous chapter || next chapter || series page

Pairing: Georgia Miller x fem!oc

Summary: Samantha confesses what happened between her and Georgia

Warnings: (18+) MDNI cursing, drug use, age gap relationships (18 and 30) grooming.

CONFRONTATION HAD NEVER BEEN SAMANTHAS STRONG SUIT.

growing up she'd do everything in her power to try and avoid having to face her mothers lectures or even an argument with her friends or any, really. that didn't change when it came to Georgia Miller.

after the kiss they shared Georgia drove Samantha back to Matthews without a word. it awkward, so much so none of them said a word since they had kissed. not even a simple goodbye was shared between them, as soon as the car pulled up to the house Samantha got out without a word. when she went inside she realized everyone was gone except for her friends, the three teens she had left in the basement were still there sleeping. she wasn't sure how but somehow they got the air mattress out and Jade and Nia were sleeping on it whilst Matthew was on the couch. Natalie and Oliver were nowhere in sight but she did not want to go look for them either, knowing she would be in for a very traumatizing night if she did.

the next day none of them woke until almost two in the afternoon, all of them quiet with pained looks on each of their faces. it was the only time Samantha had ever seen them so quiet, only exchanging one or two words. they spent a good hour trying to recover from such a horrible headache, most of them chugging water and taking Tylenol. it wasn't until mid afternoon that everyone went to Blue farm to eat lunch or dinner, honestly Samantha wasn't sure what it could be called.

even then, no one really spoke other than Oliver and Natalie who looked as normal as ever. each with smiles on their faces and talking to one another about how the party went and any gossip they had heard or seen that Friday night. Samantha just listened along with the other three, eating her cup of fruit and yogurt whilst drinking glass after glass of water.

as soon as she got home she took a quick shower and passed out until the next day. Sunday morning she woke up feeling a little better but still feeling the aftermath of drinking until she practically blacked out. she tried her best to hide how shitty she felt from her mom so she skipped breakfast and went on a run instead. it want abnormal for her to do so, it was a habit of hers ever since she was thirteen. she just hadn't had the time to go on one ever since classes started again. she ran two miles that day before she grew tired and decided to go back home, only to see Georgia outside tending to her garden.

she looked beautiful, no surprise there. she had on a black sun hat along with a yellow tank top and white shorts that all made her look fucking amazing. Samantha tried her best to ignore her, though, turned up the volume of the song playing in her earbuds and ran past the house as if it didn't mean anything. if only. once she was in her room she threw her body on her bed and screamed into her pillow.

fuck.

she couldn't face her, she just couldn't. she knew that Georgia would just tell her that the kiss was a mistake and that she was too old for her and a lot of other bullshit that would just anger Samantha and she wanted to save herself that pain. maybe it wasn't even just Georgia, maybe it had to do with her too. after their kiss she realized it wasn't just her having the hots for her, it wasn't just a little crush on her hot neighbor but it was real. too real and it scared the shit out of her. it was obvious since the beginning, she just never wanted to face that. the butterflies, the clammy hands, the anticipation for her to receive a text from her, being able to talk to her with ease and without it being awkward. but most of all it should've been obvious when she was the only thing on her mind from the day they met and on.

Georgia hadn't made an effort to talk to her either so Samantha figured it would be easier to just leave things as they are instead of having to endure an awkward conversation that would result in rejection.

so she spent most of her week keeping herself busy, she asked for extra hours and spent most of her time at Matthews place instead of her own and she didn't smoke for the whole week. scratch that, she did smoke but it was a dab pen so the house wouldn't smell. the blonde seemed to have disappeared as well and Samantha was thankful for that. it made things easier.

she even kept it from her friends.. well until she was left alone with Matthew and Nia.

they were all at Blue farm, once again, it was Thursday and her day off. Oliver and Natalie were somewhere, none of them really knew and Jade had to babysit her siblings so it was just the three of them.

she was sitting next to Nia whilst Matthew was across from them. Nia and him were talking about sophomore sleepover, the three of them were on the student council - which for Nia and Samantha it wasn't all that shocking but for Matthew on the other hand, it was. he had run as a joke but considering he's literally the stereotypical slutty jock, he won. Samantha and Nia already had everything else they needed for a shinny college resume, being on the student council just added the cherry on top. that being said, it meant they were in charge of most school activities including sophomore sleepover and although it wasn't required for them to be chaperones they were offered extra credit if they went since they needed more people helping during it and considering how easy that sounded, all three of them agreed.

as they talked her mind was preoccupied with something else - also known as someone else. even after five days she couldn't get her out of her head and it was horrible. it wasn't like they dated, or talked for very long for that matter. it was a simple and stupid drunken kiss that didn't mean anything to either of them. not even she believed that, it meant everything to her but she knew it didn't to Georgia. the blonde probably just saw her as a lovesick teen chasing after her whilst she was probably interested in someone else. someone like Paul. Samantha was aware that she was working with him in the mayors office and she also knew that Paul was one of the hottest bachelors in town and considering Georgia was.. well Georgia, she knew they probably had mutual feelings for each other.

the only hope she had that they couldn't be together was the fact that she worked for him and that would mess up his campaign. but dating in secret existed and that hurt even more.

she was looking down at her glass of water, watching the droplets around the glass drip and drip. she had tried her best to hide how she was feeling from her friends, she wore more makeup to hide her eye bag, wore her usual clothes to not bring any attention to her. she thought it had worked. it obviously didn't though.

whilst she was busy staring at the glass deep in thought Nia and Matthew were sharing glances at each other and at the young girl, the raven boy motioned toward her with his head making Nia sigh softly.

"Sam," she spoke softly but she didn't get a response, she turned back toward Matthew who was still looking at Samantha. noticing she hadn't heard Nia he spoke instead.

"Sam," he said a lot louder than her but there was still no response.

without much of another choice Nia shoved her friends arm softly with her own which finally snapped the girl out of it. she blinked and turned to her friends.

"what?" she asked her voice a little raspy from how quiet she had been all day. it was stupid of her to think they wouldn't notice, they were her best friends and they'd notice something was off simply by the way she looked at them. they had all noticed how she had been talking less, how her eyes grew more distant as the days passed and most of all how she would spend her days working instead of hanging out with them.

"what's up with you?" Matthew asked with a slight smile that he hoped would make his friend feel more comfortable.

she shook her head and plastered on a fake smile, "i'm fine. just tired" she shrugged. Nia and Matthew glanced at each other, neither of them believing that lie.

"yeah, right. you've been like this all week. what's wrong?" Mia asked and reached for her friends hand. the shorter girl hesitated, her eyes trained on their hands as she thought about what she could say. should she say the truth? could she? would it be beneficial? she wanted to think that it was but what if they tell her something that would just hurt her more?

her mouth opened to speak but her words got stuck in her throat as she saw a certain blonde walk into the restaurant with her usual smile and confident steps. she walked in and went straight to the cash register where Joe already was, he greeted her with a smile, said something and then began walking away. after the blonde leaned against the counter and pulled out her phone. was the universe against her? it sure felt like it in that moment.

Samantha swallowed thickly, "can we go? i'm done" she said pointing at her plate that was half eaten. the two friends looked at her even more confused, Matthew glanced at Nia but the curly haired girl was looking at Samantha. it took her a second before she realized Samantha was glancing at someone across the room repeatedly, her head turned and she trailed her eyes over to where she was looking, it was then that she understood. everything made so much sense now.

she turned to Matthew and pointed in the blondes direction, he looked at her with furrowed brows at first, not understanding what she was implying until her turned around and realized who was standing there. he turned back around and shook his head softly.

"yeah, we can go" Nia said and began to stand along with her friend.

"i'll pay" Matthew said and took out his wallet, Nia smiled in appreciation as she placed her hand on her best friends waist and walked out of the place with her.

the dark haired boy walked up to the cash register with his credit card out, "hey" he said to the employee. the woman greeted him back and he told her where they were sat to which the brunette employee nodded and began to print out of a receipt for him. as soon as he spoke Georgia looked up to see who was near her and when she realized who it was her heart rate picked up and her eyes subconsciously searched around the restaurant expecting to see Samantha but she was nowhere to be seen.

Matthew felt a pair of eyes staring at him so he turned to Georgia, the blondes eyes didn't flinch and he shot the woman a polite smile. it took her a second before she finally recuperated it, she took a step forward wanting to ask if he had come with his friends but Joes voice stopped her from doing so. she turned to him and saw him holding a brown bag with their lunch inside. she took the bag in her hand and thanked him before leaving the restaurant.

Samantha and Nia were in Nias black Lexus SUV. the raven haired girl was in the passenger seat scrolling through her playlist to pick a song for the car ride. she felt dramatic for forcing her friends to leave simply because Georgia had walked in but she couldn't control how her chest tightened as soon as they were in each others presence.

three minutes later the back door opened and Matthew entered the car, he moved down the seat until he was sitting in the middle where he placed both his hands on the seats in front of him and leaned slightly into the console.

"spill" he said looking directly at Samantha. she chuckled at his words.

"what?"

"what happened between you and hot neighbor?" he elaborated looking at her with expectedly. Samantha rolled her eyes at him.

"nothing happened" she shrugged, hoping to play it off. she really wanted to tell them what happened but she wasn't used to this, gossiping about her love life. she never really had a love life until a year ago and even then she kept it under wraps, they only knew they were dating and then that they broke up. simple and easy.

"ha," Matthew laughed obnoxiously making Samantha glare at him. "yeah and i'm white. seriously, what happened?" he said motioning for her to talk.

she looked at him with a blank expression and Nia looked between them with an amused smile. the staring contest lasted a good thirty seconds before finally Samantha blinked, sighed and shook her head. Matthew smirked at his victory and waited for his friend to finally tell them what happened.

"we kissed" she rushed out, not bothering to look at either of them and kept her eyes trained on hands that were messing with the rings on her fingers.

Matthew and Nia looked at each other, both equally as astonished, eyes wide with raised brows. if Samantha would've seen their reaction she would've laughed. in a second they both turned to her, "what the fuck" Matthew said making Nia nod agreement.

"yeah, what he said" Nia said pointing at him with her thumb. Samantha chuckled softly at them, she finally looked up from her lap and shrugged.

"it was at the party. i was really drunk as you guys know," she said earning nods from both of them. "and then i texted her and she went and i don't know i just kissed her" she said with a slight shrug.

both teens glanced at each other again and then turned to Samantha, "why the hell didn't you tell anyone?" Nia rushed out.

Samantha sighed, "i don't know. it's not exactly something i can just go around telling people. she could get in trouble" she said.

"yeah but we're your friends. it's not like we'd throw you under the bus like that" Matthew nodded whilst pointing at Nia who rolled her eyes and shoved his finger away from her. the boy frowned at her but didn't say anything in return.

"i know that" Samantha sighed once more, "but i felt stupid"

"did she have a bad reaction?" Matthew asked.

"not really. we just didn't talk after that, she dropped me off and none of us said anything. we haven't talked since"

"has she been avoiding you?" Nia asked with furrowed brows, it didn't look that way at Blue farm, in fact, it didn't really seem like the blonde had noticed they were even there.

"i haven't really gotten the chance considering i'm avoiding her" she answered honestly.

"damn" Matthew muttered.

"why?" Nia asked, she looked at Samanthas lap and saw her picking at her nails so she reached across the console and interlaced her hand with her friends.

"because i know she's just going to say it was just a mistake and all of this bullshit about how it's wrong and what would people think. besides, she works in the mayors office now and if anyone found out about it her reputation would be ruined" she explained in a rush.

Matthew nodded, "that's true"

that caused Nia to smack him in the shoulder with her free hand, Matthew frowned rubbing the spot that had just been hit whilst Nia shook her head at him.

"don't listen to him" she said with a glare. Matthew recoiled slightly. "you guys need to talk about it, regardless of the outcome" she said.

Samantha sighed, "i don't know"

"come on" Nia persisted, "you never know. maybe things could go well"

"ha," Samantha chuckled, "right. cause we could just treat our relationship like any normal one. it's not like she's friend with my mom and i go to school with her daughter"

Nia rolled her eyes with an amused smile, "come on. you know that's not what i mean. just talk to her, it's not like anyone has to find out about it anyway"

the raven haired girl didn't say anything as she processed her words. she knew Nia had a point but she also knew that if she were to talk to Georgia it could go one out of two ways, them kissing or her with the pain of being rejected. sure, one of those sounded heavenly but the other also sounded like hell. Samantha wasn't used to rejection, she had never really been the one to get her heartbroken because the other person decided it. the only other time she had been heartbroken it was because she decided it.

Samantha turned to look at her friend with furrowed brows, "i'm sorry. weren't you the one who told me be careful when she dm'd me the other day?" she asked.

Matthews eyes practically bulged out of his eye socket, "back up. she dm'd you?" he asked his voice going up an octave.

"yeah, like, a week ago" Samantha said.

"holy shit, she really is in love with you" he sighed out his back hitting the back seat as he looked at the roof in awe. Samantha rolled his eyes at him before turning to her friend with a raised brow, expecting an answer to her prior question.

Nia rolled her eyes at her friend, "i know what i said but that was before i realized what she really wanted. besides, i'd be a hypocrite to tell you to stay away. god knows if i were in your position id be running after her like a lost puppy" she sighed out looking at the road in front of her dreamily.

Samantha chuckled at her, "right. okay"

Nia finally looked at her friend, "just don't fuck it up. who knows, maybe she could be your sugar momma or something" she winked making Samantha snort out a laugh.

"a girl can dream"

the sun was shining brightly down on tan skin as low steady breathes left her body. her hair was tied back with a claw clip, she had on a pair of black nike compression shorts and a crop top that only covered just below her sports bra. it was warm out, not enough to break a huge sweat but enough for her to feel her head begin to warm up at the bright sun shinning down on her.

she had woken up an hour and a half ago to go on a walk which resulted in a run. Matthew had asked if she wanted to go to the gym with him and Oliver but she figured she'd wait until Saturday since she had more time. it was Friday, thankfully which meant sophomore sleepover was the next day.

the girl still hadn't talked to Georgia. she wanted to after her conversation with Nia, she and Matthew were very persistent the whole drive home and even when they got to her house. smoking with them went from relaxing to annoying pretty quickly. deep down she understood that they had a point, the only way she'd know for sure how Georgia was feeling about it would be by talking to her. that didn't make it sound any easier though. especially not considering Georgia hadn't made an effort to talk to her either. just as much as Samantha could text her, so could Georgia and considering their last message exchanged had stayed the same, she figured Georgia didn't want to talk about it.

what was the point then? she'd just be setting herself up for rejection and that was just like paying a hit man to kill her. the only thing that gave her hope was knowing Georgia had a lot more at stake compared to her. her job, reputation, her kids and so much more. it wasn't really a mystery why she wouldn't be making the first move but even then that wasn't enough for Samantha to get the motivation to make the first move.

Samantha gracefully jogged up to her house and opened the door, a wave of relief washing over her as soon as she stepped inside the house. she tried to steady her breathing by inhaling and exhaling deeply. the house smelled like pancakes and bacon meaning her mom was probably in the middle of cooking. she walked into the kitchen, her skin slightly glistening with a light sweat. she went straight to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, as soon as it was uncapped she chugged half of it.

"good morning honey" Ellen said with a bright smile. her daughter placed the plastic water on the table and smiled back.

"morning"

"how was the run?" she asked as she mixed the pancake batter. there was a bowl of fresh cut up fruit in a bowl calling her name so she reached over the blonde mom and grabbed a strawberry.

"refreshing. can you put chocolate chip in mine," she said referring to the pancakes. Ellen nodded.

"yeah, can you make sure Marcus is out of bed?" she asked as her daughter began to walk out of the kitchen.

"sure thing" she called out behind her and rushed up the stairs. Marcus was in fact not out of bed causing her to smack the boy with the closest pillow to her. she could've just shook him awake but where's the fun in that?

"i hate you" he called out as Samantha was already walking out of his room.

"love you more" she responded making kissy noises. once she was in her room she went to her dresser and took out her clothes for the day. a pair of blue baggy jeans were thrown on her bed along with a dark green tank top that really only covered her cleavage, most of her stomach was left exposed.

fully dressed and makeup done Samantha walked downstairs with her black backpack on one shoulder. her hair was curled and she was wearing grey Jordan ones. she knew as soon as Matthew sees them he's gonna complain about how it wasn't fair she got them and he didn't.

the raven haired girl sat down beside her brother on the booth section of the table and began to eat her food quietly. her siblings were already almost done with their food. she signed good morning to her dad who signed back and they had a silent conversation whilst Maxine argued about how she didn't have permission to go to sophomore sleepover.

"this Saturday night is the most important night of my life!" Maxine exclaimed as she stood with her empty plate in hand. Samantha just listened to them, finding it mildly entertaining if she were being honest.

"i don't know what to tell you. you're grounded" Ellen said back, she sounded angry and Samantha could tell this had been going on all morning - if not all week. this was the first morning she ate breakfast with them all week, she spent most of her mornings on runs but she figured she could wake an hour earlier if it meant she could spend at least one morning with her parents this week. Clint nor Ellen were ever the type to be hard on her so she knew they'd never express the fact that she wasn't ever attending family breakfast but she knew it was in the back of their mind.

Maxine walked up to Ellen and placed her plate down on the counter, "mom, this is sophomore sleepover. this transcends grounding. why don't you understand that? i'll die if i don't go!" she said rising her voice at the end of her rant.

Samantha chuckled silently, this was the prime example on why she always made sure to be on her moms side, always honest about where she was going and what she would be doing. she'd rather not get permission (although that didn't really happen because of how honest she was) than have to endure weeks of being grounded.

"i'll die if i do go" Marcus mumbled and Maxine walked back to the table to sit down.

Ellen looked at him silently and Samantha knew they had fucked up. she watched as her mom went to the counter opposite of where she was and grabbed the binder sitting there, Samanthas eyes widened as Ellen approached them knowing what would happen next. just like she had expected the binder was dropped on the table roughly making everyone sitting there flinch, including Clint.

"i have spent hours and hours working my ass off, researching hot dog vendors, glow stick suppliers. if anyone gets to die, it's me" she says her voice growing gradually louder as she spoke.

Samantha bit her tongue as it all unfolded. she didn't have an opinion on it, she wasn't being forced to go and she's sure that's what angered Max the most, she wasn't even a sophomore and yet she was going.

"we could all die together. as a family" Clint said making his eldest daughter let out a laugh. she raised her hand up and he smiled as gave her a high five. Maxine turned to her sister with a glare.

"Samantha's going and she's not even a sophomore!" she exclaimed pointing at her across the table. that really made her feel like a mind reader. she chuckled silently at the thought.

"im going for extra credit. and also i'm not a part of this" she said and stood up from her spot with her empty plate in hand. she patted her brothers arm so that he could scoot over and let her out.

"none of my friends are going" Marcus said as he stood, Samantha smiled at him and left the booth so she could go to the sink and put her plate there. Ellen shook her head at her sons words, having enough of it all.

"you are actually the worst mother ever." in the process of her whining Ellen had walked to where her daughter was. Samantha looked at her sister with a head shake, that was totally uncalled for. "why can't you be cool like Georgia?"

almost as if they woman had been summoned by just her name, her voice caught everyone's attention, including Samanthas. "i am pretty cool. morning, neighbors" she said happily. the raven haired girl leaned against the counter and watched the blonde with a rapidly beating heart. she really hoped no one else could hear it - although that statement sounded stupid, by how hard it was hammering it didn't seem all that imposible. she tried her best to show no emotion at the sight of the blonde which was stupid since no one in the room had even a slight suspicion about them.

"come in! join us!" Ellen exclaimed throwing her hands up. Clint began to sign something grabbing everyone's attention, Samantha chuckles at his statement. "he says run, save yourself" she said and Clint stood from his chair to put his plate in the sink.

"oh" Georgia chuckles with an amused smile. she turns to look at the twins who are both sporting looks of misery. "im just here to get Ginny's ticket" she said turning to look back at Ellen whilst Clint walks out of the kitchen.

Samantha stayed leaning against the counter as she watched the blonde, her hands were supporting her body on the counter top and watched as Georgia slowly met her eye, it was brief and even in that second the young girl still felt as if the air had been knocked out of her body. the blonde looked away just as quickly and laid her eyes on Ellen with her usual smile.

"see, mom, Ginny's going" Maxine said pointing at Georgia.

"would you like some breakfast?" Ellen asked completely ignoring Maxine's comment, already having enough of that argument.

Georgia gasped dramatically, "wow, your such a good mom! isn't she a good mom, Max?" the blonde asked turning to Maxine once more. Samantha looked at the blonde with a raised brow, what was she playing at? "Max, i think if you wanna prove that you deserve to go to sophomore sleepover, there are other ways to go about it than yelling at Ellen."

"yeah, stop yelling at Ellen" the blonde mom agreed quickly after.

Samantha watched as realization struck Max and she stood from her spot on the table whilst grabbing her plate. her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her eyes followed her sister as she walked to the sink and put her plate in there.

"that is some serious Jedi mind shit." Marcus said pointing at his sister while she washed her dish in the sink. Samantha chuckled at her brothers comment.

"Marcus, go to school, learn something" Ellen said pointing at her son with an annoyed expression.

"you know i won't" Marcus replied already walking out of the kitchen.

"start my car" Samantha called out before he could fully leave the house, the boy stopped, walk backwards and caught Samanthas keys when she threw them in his direction.

the blonde shook her head at her eldest daughters actions knowing she could've hit someone. "i wish i could put you in my pocket and take you everywhere" Ellen said and opened the cash box on the table to put the money Georgia was giving her inside.

Georgia looked down at the money filled box with wide eyes, "i just had a thought. why don't i chaperone the sleepover with you?" she asked her tone of voice a lot more high pitched than usual. "that way, you don't have to suffer all alone."

as soon as those words left the woman's mouth a look of dread crossed Samanthas face, her eyes widening in surprise. no. no, absolutely not. this was her time to possibly get drunk with her friends all whilst earning easy extra credit in her classes and points on her college resume. the raven haired girls head snapped to her mom, hoping with everything in her that she'd say no, tell her they have enough chaperones and Georgia didn't have to put herself through that suffering.

but that hope went to no use, "that would be amazing. i love it" Ellen laughed and gave Georgia her ticket "oh, i'm gonna put Bev on the 2:00am door shift. she'll be pissed" she mumbles the last part a smug grin on her lips.

"does that mean i'm not on door shift? cause i'm not that sure i want to spend my night hearing her complain about her marriage problems" Samantha spoke up making both Ellen and Georgia look at her. Georgias eyebrows furrowed at her words, not understanding what she had to do with any of it. it was a sleepover for sophomores, it was a literally in the name.

"i'll change you guys to classroom watch" she said smiling at her daughter.

"cool, i'm definitely gonna need some acid to wash out any sight of fifteen year olds hooking up" she nodded with pursed lips.

"you're gonna chaperone?" Georgia asked bluntly.

Samantha looked slightly taken back, if it bothered her so much then why did she volunteer? although technically the woman had no real way of knowing, her tone of voice just pissed her off. "yeah" she nodded.

her mother butted in, "they're on the student council, well, her Nia and Matthew which means they are kind of in charge of setting things like this up." she explained as she made herself busy cleaning around the kitchen.

"plus i get extra credit in all my classes" she shrugged. "anyway, we gotta go" she said looking at Maxine who was drying her hands off. the brunette nodded.

"bye mom, bye Georgia" Maxine said hugging her mom very quickly before shooting the blonde neighbor a smile and practically skipping out of school.

Samantha kissed her moms cheek and shot Georgia a forced smile who simply watched her, without another second to be questioned she followed her sister out of the house. when she stepped outside she saw Marcus sitting in the drivers seat with the girls vape in one hand. she rolled her eyes at him and walked up to the drivers seat, she yanked the door open and pointed behind her. "out" she instructed.

"oh, come on. cant i drive this once?" he asked but she shook her head.

"im sorry, do you have a job that can pay for any potential damages?" she smiled sarcastically. Marcus looked at her with a blank expression for a second before he let out a huff and got out of the seat. "thank you" she said and got inside the car.

as she began to put her seatbelt on and connect her cellphone to her car, the backseat opened getting her attention. "can Ginny come with us?" Maxine asked, poking her head.

Samantha didn't look up from her phone, simply shot her a thumbs up as she pressed play on her road playlist. "yay. okay, get in" Maxine said. the raven haired girl rolled her eyes, not finding a reason for Maxine to even ask considering she had already told Ginny she could.

#georgia miller x fem!reader #georgia miller #georgia miller smut #georgia miller x reader #ginny and georgia #ginny miller #marcus baker

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ram-bam-writes · 5 months

Text

The Highlight and The Shadow pt. 1 [Graves x NB Reader]

A/N: This is for the Graves Series I've started working on. Pt.1 is the background, the rest will be more 'interactive', per se. No real posting schedule, just whenever I feel like it. So feel free to ask to be tagged! Dm, request box, or comment/tag will work :>

Summary: Phillip Graves is a lonely man. He had no intention to be. So when his Chief Finance Officer gives him a golden nugget, he runs with the plan. Too excited to question CFO Henley, Phillip rents out part of his house to a snake and music loving college kid. What could happen?

CW: Graves being a desperate baby and Henley (oc, not reader) being a sneaky bastard, no beta we die like soap. [CW's will change as each part is uploaded]

Word Count: 1256 words

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Phillip Graves is a man of many things. He’s a hard worker, he’s a protective boss, and he’s a relaxed soul. He cares deeply for his Shadows and he does everything in his power to keep them safe. He works hard to get after what he wants and never lets things deter him — that’s how he started the PMC in the first place.

One thing Phillip Graves is not, however, is a family man.

It wasn’t always like this. He’d had the classic American dream of a partner and a few little Graves running around, maybe a kitten and a puppy to consistently separate. But with his love for his job and his soldiers, it just… didn’t work out.

He’s 41 now, and he can’t imagine putting the stress of a family on top of his work, let alone any potential lovers. He’s tried dating apps, looking for people who have children that lack the other parent. But he couldn’t do that to them. He can’t. At any given moment, he might drop from a bullet to the head.

But he isn’t fond of coming home to an empty house.

Sure, it’s grand. He makes a lot of money from Shadow Co., how could he not invest in a beautiful house? Especially when he can house a few of his Shadows who might be a little more anxious or jittery than normal. But they aren’t consistent. Sometimes it’ll be weeks before he’s coaxed a Shadow through his doors. He doesn’t mean to pressure them. He’s just… lonely.

One of his Chiefs, specifically his Financial Officer, had figured this little quirk of his out. He decided to drop the restless CEO a little tip.

“Y’know, Graves…” Henley started, eyes glancing over at the CEO with an amused expression. “You could always rent out part of your house.”

Graves stared at his Chief of Finances for a moment, eyes glazing over as he blinks. Then, those bright blue eyes narrowed, and he gave a low look at the man typing away at his computer.

“Now son, what the hell does that—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. “Miller said you practically threw him into one of the guest rooms last time he so much as exhaled.”

Graves’ jaw would tense, and he’d work his tongue in his mouth. Is he really being that obvious?

“And… theoretically… how would… how would one do that…?”

The conversation lasted almost two full hours, with Graves’ excitement filling up more and more. He can house a person or two, make Shadow Co. a bit more cash, and be less restless at home.

The next few days, however, would be spent with Henley desperately trying to ease the Commander’s nerves. No one has applied for the house despite its beauty, and Graves was getting far too anxious.

He paces around the room, eyes flicking left and right, up and down.

“Hen, what if no one— what if no one takes it? What if I get a tenant that’s just… ungodly annoying?” Graves’ mind was spinning a hundred miles a minute, and Henley was starting to get just as desperate as the commander.

Mostly because he’d like to go back to his job as the Finance Officer. But also to get his Commander to shut the fuck up and be less pushy when the others so much as shiver after a mission.

“Sir.” Henley’s voice is filled with a comforting kind of exasperation, a lazy grin on his face. “Give it time. I’m sure by tomorrow night, someone will apply. And I’m sure they’ll be just what you need.”

Graves wants to argue, he does. But there’s a look in Henly’s eyes that tells him everything will be okay. It’s the same look that he got from the man last time they needed to scrape up the money for a new Blackhawk. Somehow the man had found enough money to pay for two, and Graves was too scared to ask where he got it from.

Henley had always been a mystery to him, but he trusted the man with his life. So he takes a breath and nods, giving himself room to slow his mind down.

“Alright… If y’say so…”

——

Ping.

Graves nearly shot out of his chair when not even an hour later, a message had pulled through.

Is this still out for rent…?

Graves couldn’t breathe when he read the message, eyes sparkling perhaps a little too bright.

And, is it pet friendly?

His thumbs worked quickly on the screen, so fast he hit send but nothing went through. He grit his teeth, quickly ripping off his tactical gloves before trying again.

Yes! And, yes, as long as it doesn’t make much of a mess. :)

He exhales slowly, eyes burning into the screen of his phone. He watches the bubbles as the potential tenant — from the looks of the profile a younger individual — continues to text.

And… how are you with snakes…?

The Commander freezes. Snakes? Snakes. Snakes? But he wants this tenant. He wants anyone, damnit.

Is it going to poison me in my sleep?

The teasing route, he decides, is the best way to approach this. He doesn’t want to scare the tenant away.

No.

He sighs in relief.

But it is venomous :> And likes to chew

The Commander wants to be irritated, but he beams something bright.

Name, species, and a photo. I want to know my hitman.

——

He soon discovers that there is three of them. Two hognose snakes and one corn snake. One arctic morph, one lavender morph, and one opal morph. In that order, he learns their names are Fehttuchini (or Fetta), Tulip, and Tequila (or Tiki), and all three are sweet and loving boys who love to snuggle.

He also learns that his potential tenant is an artist on the side, being both part-time in college and part-time in work. They’ve promised to not bring trouble, expressing that they have a few close friends that are mostly relaxed. He made them promise to just alert him when people will be over, as well as to not throw any parties. Graves also explained his role in the military, albeit ambiguously for OPSEC purposes.

Henley took over the paperwork for Graves, stating that the Commander had enough paperwork already from Shadow Co. Graves was too excited to really care who did the paperwork, he’s just excited to have a tenant.

And within three weeks, he’s got three snakes he’s already decided are his, too, now, and a relatively tame tenant that switches consistently from being shy to bold. And within two months, he’s already got their schedule down, habitually takes care of the snakes, and knows every little quirk to know about his tenant. Even down to being capable of knowing when they needed a home cooked southern meal or a bath and tea when right when they get home.

So sue his lonely ass if he starts to daydream about his tenant at work. And sue Henley for keeping an entertained eye on his boss, a devious little glimmer in his eyes as he listens to his Commander ramble and gush about the sweet tenant.

After all, the CFO was a sneaky little bastard that knew what his Commander needed. And that’s a sweet tenant with a burning temper and three little snakes that just so happen to have the last name of Henley. But Graves doesn’t need to know. Not yet. Not when he’s too excited to check the paperwork. That’s what Henley’s for, right?

#phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x you #phillip graves cod

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